


Sideways Shanshu

by Hlynn



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-29
Updated: 2007-01-29
Packaged: 2018-12-06 01:00:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11589780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hlynn/pseuds/Hlynn
Summary: Picks up right where The Body left off, and continues from there. Buffy has to try and deal with the aftermath, and it's just then that Glory decides to push things into overdrive. S/B. PG-13





	Sideways Shanshu

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Hils, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Death-Marked Love](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Death-Marked_Love). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [the Death-Marked Love collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/deathmarkedlove/profile).
> 
> Spoilers: Season 5, up to The Body  
> Rating: PG-13   
> Disclaimer: Buffy et al. are the property of ME, Fox, and Joss Whedon.   
> No copyright infringement is intended--it's just for fun.  
> Summary: Picks up right where The Body left off, and continues from   
> there. Buffy has to try and deal with the aftermath, and it's just then   
> that Glory decides to push things into overdrive. S/B.
> 
> Author Notes: This is half of a much longer story, but the second half   
> started to become a story in of itself, so that'll come later. :) No   
> spoilers for the rest of the season are in this--it's just my take on   
> how I'd like to see events play out, from a redemptionista POV.

The floor underneath her hands was cold, as was the air in the room, the   
morgue where they'd taken her mother's body. The vampire that had   
grabbed her had been just as cold, but not lifeless like the other   
bodies on the row of tables around her. Then her sister had been there,   
pulling the vampire away and being tossed into metal tables and   
equipment, more cold things. Even Buffy's strength seemed sapped in this   
place.

Now her sister was lying on the floor, not far from her, exhausted from   
a fight that should have been easy. But Dawn's eyes were fixed on the   
face that had been revealed, the sheet pulled away by accident though it   
was the original design.

"It's not her. It's not her," Buffy's voice carried in the chilly room,   
almost as lifeless. "She's gone."

"Then where'd she go?" Dawn asked, entranced and horrified by the sight   
of her mother, staring sightlessly at the ceiling.

Dawn's hand crept ever closer to her mother's face, sensing the coldness   
even from a distance. Then she felt the cold clamminess of the skin of   
the body underneath her fingertips, lifeless and inert. The reality of   
her mother's death finally sunk in, and a torrent of pain and grief   
engulfed her.

"No, no, no...." Dawn wailed helplessly, hating this moment, wishing she   
could change things, make her mother not dead. If she wasn't human, a   
ball of energy everyone said she was, then why couldn't she bring her   
mother back?

She summoned her will, hoping it was true. She could undo this, if she   
only tried...

Dawn felt the presence before she heard the voice. She knew instantly   
that she'd done something, had managed to reach out to wherever her   
mother was...but the sound of her mother's voice came from within her,   
stilling her thoughts.

"Dawn, honey, don't," her mouth moved, but it wasn't her voice. Buffy   
stared at her in shock, as if she was a freak or something. Maybe she   
was, after all.

"Buffy, Dawn...there wasn't anything you could have done. It was meant   
to be. I understand that, now."

"Mom," Buffy choked out, willing to believe the voice belonged to her   
mother. "I miss you so much. I wish I could have been there, have done   
something..."

"Shh, it's all right. Where I am, it's nice. You'll see. I can't stay   
very long, but they let me talk to you, to warn you about Glory. You   
can't let her have Dawn, at any cost. The Key is only the first step."

"First step? To what? Mom...?" Buffy called out, hope dying in her   
voice. Dawn wondered who 'they' were.

"I don't know. I'm so sorry you have to go through this alone, but don't   
forget that I'm with you. I'll see you soon, my darlings. I love you   
both so much. Goodbye."

"Mom, don't go!" Dawn cried out, feeling her mother's presence slip back   
from wherever it came. Buffy was still in shock, watching Dawn with a   
mixture of envy and longing. Dawn had been able to call out to their   
mother, and for all her Slayer abilities, Buffy couldn't do the same.

"Make...make her come back, Dawn."

"I--I can't. I don't know how," the young girl sobbed, feeling helpless.   
"I could feel her inside, but I don't know how I did it. Or if I did   
it."

Buffy gathered her sister in her arms, just as the others came in.   
Xander looked first to the crying sisters on the floor, then to Joyce's   
uncovered body. "Oh God--"

He turned to shield Willow from the sight, as Anya walked past him to   
the body. She carefully, reverently, and gently placed the sheet back   
over Joyce's head.

  
****

  
After a long, odd explanation about the door and the mess to the people   
working at the morgue--who knew more about vampires than they cared to   
admit, and were glad that Buffy had been able to stop it before it had   
killed someone--they went back to the lounge and waited for Giles to   
come back. Buffy explained what had happened while they waited.

"Wow, that's--that's incredible," Willow said. "And it's weird, but I   
feel a sense of peace, knowing she's okay wherever she is. And that she   
likes it there." Tara nodded in agreement. Xander had fallen into a deep   
sullenness, along with Anya. Seeing Joyce's body had shaken him worse   
than he cared to admit.

"I know, Will. And I'm glad Dawn and I were able to talk to her one last   
time, but..." her voice faltered, the shock of what had happened just   
now catching up to her. In a way, her death hadn't seemed real because   
her mother had been so alive one moment, then was gone the   
next...there'd been no transition, no preparation. But now, her mother   
had said goodbye, and it was for real.

Giles came back just then with the doctor and a handful of forms, and   
Buffy's mind focused back on the present. Have to sign forms, have to   
stay strong, I can't fall to pieces now, not now...

While she finished signing papers, Willow and Xander told Giles was had   
happened. He was understandably flabbergasted, and felt his own sense of   
relief, which Buffy only wished she could feel.

  
****

  
"What'd you mean, you won't do it?"

If Warren had been a smart man, he would have recognized Spike's   
dangerous tone. But if it affected him, he never showed it.

"I said no more girls, and I mean it! I don't care why you want me to   
build you a copy of...of Buffy Summers," the astonishment was clearly   
evident in the tech student's voice, "but it's wrong, and I won't do it.   
I've learned my lesson."

"And what lesson is that?" Spike continued in that dangerous voice.

Warren sighed, exasperated. "Building a robot to love you isn't what you   
think it is. Sure, it seems like a great idea at first, but you won't be   
happy. You'll get bored--and when you'll realize this, then you've   
suddenly got a homidical robot on your hands. Besides, all my tools are   
at the college and it would take months to build you one. I don't have   
the time to waste on it."

Spike opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. "The robot got boring?"

"Yes, it did. It was predictable, pre-programmed...and it wasn't real.   
The spontaneity, the spark of life that makes love worth it all--it   
wasn't there. And even if I made you a perfect copy of her, you wouldn't   
be able to love it. You'd know it wasn't the real thing."

That truth settled heavily on Spike. Buffy had accused him of not really   
loving her, and if he did this, he was proving her right. He reached for   
the box, hesitated, then grabbed it finally and looked again at the   
intrepid inventor. "Uh, thanks."

"Don't mention it. I wish someone had told me the same thing." Warren   
glanced at the box. "Does she, uh, know? About this?"

"Yeah." Spike swallowed, then shuffled over to the door. "Don't tell her   
I was here, okay? It's not like I had much of a chance before, so..."

"She'll never hear it from me--my lips are sealed. I'm leaving now,   
anyway. Good luck," Warren offered half-heartedly. Spike nodded, and   
left with the box tucked under one arm.

  
****

  
Tara and Willow stayed with Dawn and Buffy at the house, while Giles and   
Xander said they would patrol tonight in the city. Neither wanted to be   
in the cemetery, and no one blamed them.

Dawn reminded Buffy that they needed to call Dad. Buffy both dreaded and   
longed to hear her father's voice--afraid she would lose control if she   
did, but needing to know for sure that there was another anchor in the   
storm, besides her. The phone was in her hands before she even realized   
she was in the kitchen.

Please, Daddy, please pick up....three rings, then a fourth, then the   
answering machine kicked in. No one home. She called the office, but he   
was in France now, on the Riviera. They didn't know where he was staying   
yet, but Buffy told the office secretary that it was a family emergency   
of the most serious kind, and to either forward the message to him when   
they did find out or to please call her back when they did know where he   
was.

Despair trickled in. She called his apartment again and left a message   
on the answering machine this time, asking him to call her back as soon   
as possible--he phoned in for his messages when he was away, so she   
could hope that he'd do it soon.

Buffy walked back and sat next to Dawn at the table--the dining room   
table, not the living room. Now, it was filled with horrible memories,   
of EMTs telling her bad news, of the couch being where....

She focused back on her friends' faces. Willow and Tara tried to offer   
comfort, but there wasn't any for her, not tonight.

"We could watch some TV," Willow tried. But, the TV was in *that* room.   
She couldn't go in there, not tonight.

"Guys, I think I just want to be alone for a little while. I'll...be up   
in my room." Buffy left before they said anything else.

She didn't turn on the lights in her room; the darkness suited her mood   
better. The first few minutes, she laid down on the bed and could still   
hear Dawn and the others talking. Her eyes focused on items from   
childhood, things her mother had bought her for Christmas, and for her   
birthday...

The memories were everywhere--she couldn't escape them, not in the house   
or in her room. She needed to be somewhere else, someplace where her   
mother hadn't been. And she needed to be doing something that would take   
her mind away from the pain, where she could dull her thoughts into   
oblivion.

Buffy got up from the bed, her mind focused on the one place where she   
could escape from the pain; the cemetery.

  
****

  
The box of photos was tossed to one side in Spike's crypt, the contents   
shuffling and settling uneasily. The bleached blonde vampire looked it   
over in despair, feeling that he'd lost whatever chance he had with   
Buffy when Dru had showed up. He wanted to blame Dru for it all, for   
vamping him in the first place and leading him to this horrible fate.   
Better to have killed him in the alleyway 120 years ago--at least he   
wouldn't be going through this mockery of life.

It wasn't the first time he contemplated suicide. If the truth were   
told, he'd always had a deathwish, covered over with bluster and the   
desire to end it all with blood and glory. With his reputation ruined   
among demonkind and an outcast among humans, what was left for him,   
really? The encounter with Dru had shown him that the chip in his head   
no longer mattered, as far as his motivations were concerned. Holding   
that dead girl, knowing he could taste his first human blood in almost   
two years...and he paused. He'd watched Dru in a mix of horror and   
fascination, seeing for the first time how he looked to humans. It was   
ugly, and horrid--but it was who he was. And who he always would be.

And so he bit into the girl's neck, not out of any desire to do so, but   
because it was expected of him. Everyone wanted Spike the vampire, why   
not give it to them?

It was while walking back with Drusilla that the truth sunk in--he   
didn't belong in Dru's world, not anymore. He could pretend, but it   
wouldn't be real. The chip wasn't holding him back; *he* was.

Buffy's presence in the crypt had messed up his plans, and he'd had to   
improvise. He hated doing that, since it always ended up being botched   
horribly. The human blood in his system didn't help that at all, not a   
bit. What had he been thinking, when he chained Buffy up like that? Is   
that what human blood did to him? If so, he didn't want it.

Spike laughed bitterly at the thought. A vampire who goes cold turkey on   
human blood, and doesn't even have a soul--what would be next? A demon   
who runs a child day-care center?

Sullenly, Spike gave the box a good kick, then settled down in front of   
the TV. If his days were numbered, he might as well get caught up on his   
shows before it happened.

  
****

  
A cold wind blew in from the northwest, and Buffy shivered in the thin   
shelter of her sweatshirt, thrown on over her red long-sleeved sweater.   
She hadn't dared to go back down the stairs to get her coat, instead   
relying on the thickness of the cotton poly blend to be enough. From the   
smell of rain in the air, that now seemed like a potentially wet   
mistake. She had a couple stakes scavenged from the bedroom closet   
tucked into the back pocket of her jeans. If she needed more, she would   
improvise.

The vampire came from somewhere behind her. She spun to face her   
opponent, finding herself up against something that definitely wasn't   
newly risen. Dressed in what looked to be the best of early 90s trailer   
trash, the once-alive vampire gave her an appraising look.

"The Slayer...well, well. Like the U of C sweatshirt with those jeans,   
very nubile."

Damn. It had to be a bantering one, of all things. The last thing she   
wanted to do was the witty, cutting remarks. She gave it a try,   
nevertheless.

"It's the latest thing for slaying--comfy and yet it doesn't say I can't   
be a lot of fun." She lunged with a punch, but he dodged easily...too   
easily. The delivery of the line and the punch were much too weak for   
her normal performance level. He landed a backhand swing on her jaw,   
sending her flying into a grave marker statue.

"C'mon, Slayer. I heard you were hot stuff. Where's that panache?"

Panache? First nubile, now panache? If she weren't so upset, scared and   
emotionally exhausted right then, she might have laughed. Buffy got back   
on her feet, and took in a deep breath. Stake the bastard. Just do it   
and move on to the next.

Her grief turned to rage, unchecked violence that sprung up from some   
dark place within her. Tears burned in her eyes, but she didn't care.   
Blows, kicks and punches landed on the vampire in a torrent, instantly   
taking away what bravado he had. He fought back with more strength than   
Buffy expected, and she grabbed one of the two stakes from where she had   
tucked it. At the first opening in his defenses, she plunged the stake   
into his heart, and he burst into dust.

A comfortable numbness descended over her, brought on by the fight.   
Don't think, just kill. Her eyes scanned the horizon, looking for   
another vampire or demon to take on.

A sudden drop of something cold and wet hit the top of her head, then   
her cheek and her hands. Then in what amounted to only seconds later,   
the heavens opened up and poured cold, hard rain on her. She stood in   
the rain, letting the coldness seep inside, hoping it could dull the   
pain just a little, just enough so it didn't hurt so bad, anymore.

  
****

  
The storm messed up Spike's TV reception, which considering how   
everything else seemed to be going wrong nowadays, was only too fitting.   
He turned the TV off and sat listening to the rain hitting the roof, the   
noise echoing around the small chamber.

He remembered the sound of rain on the London streets, the smell of wet   
earth and brick as the rain washed away the soot and dung, the quietness   
as the wall of water softened the clacking of horseshoes against brick   
and the chatter of passersby.

Spike opened the door to the crypt and soaked in the ambiance, the tang   
of damp mulch and the patter of droplets hitting the leaves of trees in   
the cemetery. The cacophony helped fill the emptiness, and also silence   
it. He would never admit it to a living soul, but he liked when it   
rained. He always had, and he suspected he always would.

A few moments passed by, and then he heard it, out in the distance. A   
young woman's muffled cry of pain, and then a soft thump and a much   
louder roar--a demon one, if his ears didn't deceive him.

Another female cry, this time of effort, and he smiled darkly in   
recognition--the Slayer. Of course. He peered out into the rain, trying   
to see where the fight was taking place. It would be fun to watch, but   
he wouldn't help...not this time, since it only made her angry and   
despite his morose thoughts earlier, he didn't want to be staked just   
yet. Besides, she could handle herself.

He grabbed his leather duster and shrugged it on, wishing he'd swiped an   
umbrella from somewhere, earlier. Carrying the wool blanket over his   
head would just block his peripheral vision and tie up both arms, in   
case he got attacked, so he went without.

And so he jotted out into the storm, following the faint sounds of   
battle in the hopes of catching a good show.

  
****

  
Buffy ignored the cold rain, the freezing dampness of her clothing and   
the wind chilling it even further. She ignored the screaming pain in her   
leg and stood on it, using a tombstone to help keep her upright.

The demon was much worse off, in comparison. It knelt on the soggy   
ground, already dead but not knowing it. Buffy couldn't move to finish   
it off, instead watching in horrified fascination as it died slowly,   
falling the rest of the way to the ground and lying still, released from   
the pain and agony by death. She'd never envied a demon so much in her   
life.

She breathed in a labored breath--her ribs were sore, maybe cracked. A   
sane woman would be limping home by now. But she couldn't go home...she   
couldn't face that pain. Physical pain was easier to take; it didn't   
prey upon formerly happy memories and twist them into painful reminders   
of the present.

Her hands were numb, clutching the stake for all it was worth. Another   
vampire would do it for tonight, she could fight another one and be   
okay. Or if not, that was fine with her. Not like they needed her to   
beat Glory in a fight. Willow had done more than she had, after all.

Buffy limped away from the demon body, looking for her next kill. She'd   
only gotten a few yards before she sensed another vampire coming from   
her left, very quickly. Water dripped in her eyes, she couldn't see   
where it was, and then it slammed into her, tackling her into the wet   
grass. The stake flew out of her hand on impact, and the other was   
trapped underneath her by the weight of her attacker.

She clawed its face, trying to get it off of her, and finally it pushed   
itself off and away, readying to strike again. Buffy rolled over and   
fumbled for the other stake, her wet clothes pulling on fatigued limbs   
and making it even harder to reach behind her.

 

  
Spike heard the fight before he saw it, then he stumbled past a thicket   
of trees and found her up against a standard, run-of-the-mill vampire.   
Nothing she couldn't take down in a couple seconds.

But as he watched, he noticed that Buffy wasn't moving quite as fast as   
she ought to be. She was kneeling on the ground, finally grabbing hold   
of the stake tucked in her back pocket and pulling it free. She got a   
leg under her and tried to stand, then wobbled and nearly toppled over.

The vampire she was fighting didn't falter, lunging at her with the   
intent of draining her dry. A feeling of dread settled over him, as he   
realized that she wasn't moving fast enough to dodge the vamp   
completely. Spike was already running over as the other vampire knocked   
Buffy to the ground, the hand with the stake pinned down in its strong   
grip.

He saw another stake lying in the grass as he approached, snatched it   
off the ground and in a couple strides he was there, staking the vamp   
before the other could notice the shift of events out of its favor.

The dust vanished quickly in the steady downpour, and Spike looked over   
at Buffy to make sure she was all right. He nearly gasped at the sight   
of her--her jeans had a gash in them that matched with the one in her   
right leg, her skin was as pale as death, and she was staring at him in   
blank comprehension, as if she didn't really register his presence.

"Buffy, are you all right?" He leaned down and offered a hand up. She   
still looked at him distantly, but grabbed his hand and let him pull her   
off the ground.

She teetered for a second, then her injured leg collapsed under the   
weight. Spike caught her before she fell, and she sagged in his arms   
like a rag doll as the rest of her strength drained out of her. His   
chest tightened with fear as he realized her skin was ice cold. Her   
shivering for warmth wasn't doing her much good, as her clothing was   
soaked through.

"C'mon, let's get you out of the rain," he said softly, and seeing she   
wasn't going to be able to walk very far, if at all, he gathered her up   
in his arms and carried her back to his crypt. She didn't protest in the   
slightest, and that only worried him more.

  
****

  
Once inside the crypt, Buffy started to come out of the mental fog she'd   
been in. Spike had noticed that the sweatshirt covered over another   
piece of clothing, and he'd pulled it off to try and get her warm and   
dry. The red sweater was only wet on the shoulders, elbows, and back,   
and mildly damp everywhere else. Outwardly thankful he had left the wool   
blanket behind, he wrapped her in it and put her in the only chair he   
owned, while he took a look at the gash on her leg.

She glanced down at it herself; Long, but not too deep. It was hard to   
tell how much blood she might have lost, since the rain had probably   
washed most of it away. Using some gauze he had left over probably from   
the last time he'd been hurt, Spike began to dab at the dark red slash,   
his movements careful and gentle.

Buffy watched him silently, more aware now than earlier. Seeing her   
change in awareness, he attempted to find out what was going on. "I've   
seen you take out blokes twice that one's strength in a quarter of the   
time, so something must be wrong. Are you hurt? Did something   
happen...?" He watched patiently, growing ever more worried by her   
silence.

She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. The look of   
concern and worry in his eyes undid her, for reasons she couldn't   
explain, and the dam of grief and pain within her burst. "My   
mom...she's--she's dead," she wept, finally, uncontrollably.

He stilled, his face a mask of shock. "She's....but, how? Was it...her?   
Glory?" he asked, his voice suddenly thick with emotion. Buffy shook her   
head.

"N-no. It wasn't her." Spike sagged to his knees, and Buffy wasn't sure   
if it was in relief or sorrow. A long moment passed, and Buffy felt the   
worst of the grief abate for the time being, the sobs slowly turning   
into a deep ache and sadness that seemed it would never end.

Spike's voice startled her. "It must've been something from the   
operation, or the tumor, then, right? 'Cause no one else would've hurt   
her," he replied with certainty, his voice tremulous, on the edge of   
breaking. She gazed at him with bleary eyes, but the deep pain and   
anguish on his face was clear enough. Was this genuine? Or was he still   
trying to prove himself to her?

She pushed herself off the chair, not able to bear the idea of his   
grief. If it was true, then she couldn't deny his feelings for her were   
real--

Her legs buckled underneath her once again, her strength not quite back.   
Spike leaped up and caught her by the waist, easing her down to the   
floor so that their knees rested on his throw rug. Her hands   
automatically fell on his shoulders for support, and now she could see   
the tears in his eyes, and the tracks of tears already fallen. Without   
thinking, she placed a chilled hand on the side of his face, over the   
path the tears had taken. Her skin felt hot compared to his, she noted   
with a growing detachment, her coping mechanism slipping back into   
control.

  
****

  
"Your skin is so cold," Buffy said, her voice hoarse from crying. Her   
eyes gazed into his with childlike fascination; not so distance as   
earlier, but she was heading back down that path.

Troubled by the change, Spike now noticed that her skin was much warmer   
than it should've been. "Buffy, I--"

She stopped him with a finger over his lips, then leaned in and, to his   
utter amazement and shock, pressed her lips to his in a chaste kiss. He   
knew she wasn't herself, but he couldn't help kissing back lightly,   
wanting to comfort her any way he could.

Buffy pulled back a second later, and watched him curiously. "Your lips   
are cold. You feel cold, like my mother, but you still look like you're   
alive. But my mom isn't. And you're not alive, either..."

He winced at the truth of it. If he could've given anything to be human   
again, he would have, at that moment. But he had to reconnect her to the   
present, keep her from slipping back into a path that led to the   
deathwish. "You're right, I'm not. But I still have feelings--how, I   
don't know. Maybe I'm different from other vampires, maybe it's just who   
I am. There's one thing I do know; your sister needs you right now, as   
do your friends--they'd be bloody lost without you."

Tears welled in Buffy's eyes once again, and Spike felt both guilt and   
relief at seeing those tears, knowing he had managed to reach her. She   
weakened in his arms, and he gathered her close to him as she wept, the   
grief more in control but still raw in its power.

He swallowed down his nervousness and fear, adding softly, "And so would   
I, love."

She said nothing to that, didn't tense up or push him away, so either   
she hadn't heard him or she didn't consider it a horrible thing to say.   
He hoped it was the latter.

Eventually, her crying subsided and he felt her sink into sleep,   
relaxing into his embrace in a way that spoke volumes. That she would   
fall asleep in his arms showed a level of trust he would never have   
expected from any human, least of all her.

His heart soared at the thought, but the reality was she was still   
feverish, and needed to be taken care of in better surroundings than his   
dank, cold crypt. Gently, he tucked the blanket around her and then   
wrapped his leather duster over that, to protect her from the rain. He   
remembered to snatch up her sweatshirt, lifted her into his arms and   
headed out into the storm, not caring that he'd end up soaked through by   
the time they got to her house. The only thing that mattered was her.

And so, he never saw the pair of dark eyes that watched him leave.

  
****

  
"Buffy? Did you want to eat something?" Willow asked at her friend's   
bedroom door, then cautiously pushed open the door when she didn't get a   
response.

Flipping on the lights proved to her that Buffy wasn't in her room, as   
she said she would be. A quick check of the other rooms upstairs   
affirmed that Buffy wasn't in the house; if she had come downstairs,   
they would have heard her. Not to mention that her window was cracked   
open, just enough so that fingers could slide in underneath and lift it   
up from the outside.

"Tara, she's gone," Willow called out breathlessly as she came down the   
stairs, her worry starting to escalate. "Where do you think she'd go?"

"What--Buffy's not upstairs?" Tara looked over to Dawn, who was growing   
ever more concerned.

"No, I looked, and she's not anywhere. Her window was open, and I know   
she used to climb out whenever she had to go slaying, back when her mom-  
-" Willow stopped, both for Dawn's sake and because a sudden fear had   
gripped her. "Oh God."

"Willow?"

"I hope I'm wrong, but she used to sneak out to go slaying, and she   
might have thought...well, I don't know what she's thinking, but she   
shouldn't be out there. I mean, the vampire that attacked Dawn--"

"It took her longer to slay it than it normally would, and she got   
thrown around a lot," Dawn spoke up quietly. "It was like she forgot how   
to fight."

Willow and Tara shared a concerned look. Willow headed for the phone in   
the kitchen. "We gotta call Giles--no, wait. He and Xander are out   
patrolling. One of us is gonna have to go out there and bring her   
back..."

"I'll go. You stay here with Dawnie and I'll find her."

"No, I should go. You haven't been out in the cemetery as much, and   
that's probably where she went." The sound of knocking interrupted her,   
and hoping it was Giles or Xander, Willow rushed over to the door and   
opened it.

It was Spike, drenched from head to foot, holding someone wrapped up in   
his leather duster. It took Willow a second to realize it was Buffy.   
"She needs help," he said lamely, in answer to her questioning look.

"Bring her in," Tara said as Willow moved aside, but he stayed still.

"I can't, remember? I need to be invited."

Dawn walked over, deeply distraught. "Come in, Spike. Is she okay? What   
happened?"

He stepped through hesitantly, then once across the threshold his   
confidence grew. "She's okay for the most part. Got a gash on her leg   
and she's soaked to the bone, plus she's got a fever."

"Let's get her upstairs, then. Spike, would you..?" Tara asked,   
gesturing at the stairs, and he went ahead without a word to spare. The   
others followed just behind him.

He carried Buffy into her room, laid her carefully on the bed and   
started to peel away the coat and the blanket. Dawn came in with gauze   
and bandages, plus a medical kit that was well used. Tara went to   
Buffy's side and took over for Spike, while Willow led him out of the   
room.

"What happened?" The red-headed witch asked him, her arms wrapped   
herself self-consciously.

A pained expression crossed his face. "She, she was trying to do some   
slaying tonight, and she wasn't doing a good job at it. I think she got   
tossed around a bit; the gash on her leg was probably from a demon,   
you'll want to make sure it's not infected or anything."

Seeing Willow's look of puzzlement, he continued, "Anyway, I found her   
fighting for her life against some blighter she normally could've taken   
down easily. I staked him, but Buffy wasn't able to walk, or really even   
talk. She was just...disconnected." He added softly, "She told me about   
her mother, once she came out of it. I tried drying her off as best as I   
could, but she was probably out there in the rain for a long time before   
I found her."

"How *did* you find her?" Willow asked, a hint of skepticism in her   
voice.

Spike sighed in a mixture of exasperation and unwanted memory, "I heard   
her fighting from my crypt. I was curious, went out to take a look, and   
then...well, you know the rest."

Willow's quiet anger at Spike began to fade, in light of what he'd done.   
"Thanks for bringing her here, but you'd better go before Buffy wakes   
up, or the guys come back. We don't need a conflict right now."

He nodded, clearly expecting as much. A rueful smile played on his face.   
"Yeah, you can't revoke the invite while I'm still here, can you? But I   
won't make a fuss. If I could have my coat back, I'll be going."

Willow went back into Buffy's room, and Spike drifted along at a   
distance, just enough so he could peek into the room and check on the   
Slayer. Awake but not fully absorbing her environment, she was now   
dressed in flannel pajamas and sitting on the edge of the bed while Dawn   
towel-dried her hair. One leg of the pajamas was rolled up, exposing the   
wounded leg. Butterfly bandages held the edges of the gash together,   
and Tara carefully put a gauze pad over the wound, then taped it down   
and rolled the pant leg over it. Buffy looked up at him as he came into   
view, and blinked in comprehension.

"Spike? You...brought me here?"

Tara glanced at Spike then handed his coat and blanket over to Willow,   
who passed it on to the vampire. He shrugged in a feint of indifference,   
but it fooled no one. "You needed to be taken care of."

No one replied to that, so Spike added, "I'm sorry about your mum,   
Buffy. She was very kind and generous...and she treated me better than I   
deserved." He glanced down at the coat and blanket in his arms, then   
back at Buffy. "She will be sorely missed."

"Thank you," Buffy replied, the tone carrying a meaning beyond his   
compliment to her mother. He smiled wanly after an awkward moment, then   
said goodbye and turned to leave, as if trying to flee before Buffy   
changed her mind and thought better of what she'd said.

Willow and Tara first looked to each other, then over to Buffy, who   
merely watched where Spike had been standing. Tara gathered up the damp   
towels in an effort to cover the continuing silence of disbelief.

"Buffy, I think all the ingredients for the deinvite spell are here. If   
you want--" Willow began, but her friend wasn't really listening. Dawn   
settled down next to her sister and hugged her. Buffy wrapped an arm   
around Dawn and glanced away from the door for the first time.

Dawn disrupted the silence. "Buffy, I know you told me that Spike wasn't   
really in love with you...but do you think you could've been wrong?"

Willow expected her friend to refute it, but she was surprised at   
Buffy's response. "I don't know, Dawn. He saved my life tonight, and it   
was more than just about staking the bad guy. I wanted the pain to end,   
and I didn't care how. But, he reminded me that I had family and friends   
who needed me."

"He, uh, he didn't say anything about that, earlier," Willow replied,   
now extremely awkward at thinking back on the moment. "He just said that   
you got in trouble and he staked the vamp. Well, and that you also were   
really out of it."

Buffy nodded absently, as if that made all the sense in the world. "I   
was. And I think I still am, a little. I don't feel too good."

"That's probably thanks to losing blood from a deep cut on your leg,   
being thrown around, and standing out in the rain for too long," Willow   
chided softly, moving over to check Buffy's forehead for any increase in   
fever. Feeling none, she nudged Dawn off the bed and beckoned Buffy to   
get underneath the covers. "Why don't you get some rest, and I'll go get   
some Advil for the fever and the pain."

"Thanks," Buffy replied, her voice already starting to fade as she hit   
the sheets. Tara escorted Dawn out of the bedroom while Willow fetched   
the painkiller. Buffy held on to consciousness long enough for her to   
get back with the pills and a glass of water, then she drifted off into   
dreamless sleep.

  
****

  
The rain tapered off into a drizzle as Spike walked back home, turning   
into a whisper of what it once was. His boots squished in the rain-  
sodden ground, as he weaved past tombstones and statues to the place he   
considered his only refuge.

He still couldn't believe how the night had ended. What had been the   
lowest point in his existence had now become laced with hope. It wasn't   
perfect, but it was a start--and that's all he wanted. How amazing, that   
a simple 'thank you' could change a person's perspective on life.

Spike pushed open the door and pulled off his leather coat, heavy from   
being drenched thoroughly tonight. But it didn't matter--he tossed the   
coat to one side and looked around the crypt--

And that's when he felt the sensation of something being not quite   
right. The weighty presence of another person in the dank structure,   
stirring the air unnaturally. And then a familiar smell hit him--  
expensive perfume, jasmine body lotion, and various hair and face   
products. He hadn't felt fear in a long time, but he was feeling it now.

Spike tried to run for the doorway, but it was already blocked by the   
person he'd identified. "Glory," he muttered, not sure if it was a plea   
or an attempt at bravado.

The tawdry goddess smiled. "Boyfriend-guy. Nice place you got here.   
Though the view isn't exactly the greatest."

"What do you want?" He tried to project cool, he really did, but he   
remembered how the woman had beaten and thrown him around. He definitely   
didn't want a second go at it.

"Aside from the Key? That would be you, pal. My loyal minion saw you   
with the Slayer, taking care of her, being all cozy with her. It makes   
me think you might have an idea where my Key is."

He smiled with an indulgence he didn't feel. "Haven't heard of it."

"Listen, buddy. I don't have time for these games, and if I have to beat   
it out of you, I will. I just figure this way, you save yourself--and   
the Slayer--a whole heapin' helping of pain and agony."

He turned with nonchalance towards the interior of the crypt, hoping to   
draw her away from the door. "Can't help you, sweets. Sorry."

A hand with a grip like iron grabbed his arm, and tossed him casually   
into his TV, shattering it into pieces as he landed on it. The glass   
drove into his back and he let out a terse cry of pain, then Glory's   
hand wrapped around his throat, lifting him into the air.

"Want more? Or are you going to tell me where I can find the Key?"

He said nothing. Angry, she clocked him with a powerful backhanded blow   
to the jaw. It didn't break, but only just. Then he felt himself flying   
again, this time into the far wall. The impact cracked the masonry, and   
he leaned against the wall for support. If only Glory wasn't in human   
form, he could defend himself...

Spike tried for the door again, having no other recourse, but Glory was   
faster. A blow to the stomach doubled him over, then a solid jab sent   
him flying into the above ground stone coffin. His head hit the side of   
it and then all he knew was blackness.

  
****

  
"Slow night," Xander commented to Giles, as they hopped into the Magic   
Box to drop off the majority of the weapons. They, in fact, had only   
staked one vampire tonight--even monsters in Sunnydale had the sense to   
stay out of the rain.

"Yes, quite. But I wonder if we shouldn't keep at it, considering the   
rain has tapered off, now."

"It's what, three in the morning? I think the prime slaying hours are   
over, especially since the people vampires prey on are likely asleep in   
bed by now. Like we should be."

They hung the axe and scythe in the training room, and placed their   
handful of stakes in the designated box. Giles winced as his muscles   
twinged in a pattern he'd become all to accustomed to over the years,   
while Xander tried to rub the sleep from his eyes.

"Want some coffee, or tea?" Giles offered.

"No, thanks. I'll just head on home."

Silence fell between them, both of them thinking the same thing; Should   
they check on Buffy? "She's probably asleep by now--Buffy, I mean,"   
Giles corrected himself. "We'll call her in the morning, let her know   
how things went."

Xander nodded gratefully. "Sounds like a plan. Now, if you could point   
me in the general direction of my apartment, I'd be much obliged."

"Nonsense. My car's out back. I'll drive you home."

"Thanks," Xander replied, too tired to argue. Neither really wanted to   
talk about what had happened just several hours earlier, having used the   
past few hours to do anything but talk about it. Now, they shuffled out   
the back door quietly, still trying to avoid the subject. It was easier   
that way.

  
****

  
Morning dawned, but it was hidden behind a curtain of pearl-grey clouds.   
Buffy slept in, oblivious at first to the change. Then her consciousness   
recognized it was a new day, and she didn't want to get up. Getting up   
meant she'd have to talk to people, who would try to comfort her in   
awkward and ineffective ways.

She drifted in and out of sleep for a couple hours, hearing the stirring   
of activity downstairs. Someone talking, probably Willow. Sounded like   
she was on the phone, considering she didn't hear a reply in the quiet   
between Willow's spurts of talking. The smell of food eventually   
permeated the bubble inside her room, and she stirred to wakefulness,   
finally deciding that she was a bit hungry, after all.

She instantly recognized the woman in red standing in her room,   
patiently waiting for her to wake up. Glory smiled wickedly, enjoying   
every second of Buffy's growing horror. "Wakey, wakey, little girl!"

Buffy drew herself up to a sitting position, afraid to move too fast or   
else expose her continued pain and soreness from last night. "Is this a   
social call?"

"Hardly. Just wanted to let you know that when I say I'm gonna do   
something, I do it. Remember, no Key for me equals no friends and family   
for you? But I realize that killing all your friends at once isn't a   
good incentive, so I'm doing it one at a time. Starting with that guy   
you love so much."

Hoping it was a bluff, Buffy asked, "Who?"

"Didn't get his name, but he did take a good beating. He's a hardy one,   
I'll give him that. He wouldn't tell me where the Key was, even after I   
had some fun torturing him first."

Who could she have, Buffy thought furiously, dread settling in her   
stomach. Xander? Giles? Or was it even Riley? Glory saw the doubt form   
in her eyes, and laughed. "Hey, all you have to is look for him, if you   
don't believe me. Or I can bring back a body part, if you want."

"No, that's all right," Buffy replied hastily, before Glory thought it   
would be a good idea.

"I'll give you one hour to get the Key and bring it to me. You don't,   
and your guy dies a nasty death. I'll be at the old warehouse at   
Seventh and Turney. If you come empty-handed, things will get really   
ugly," Glory gave her a sweet smile, as if anticipating that moment.

Buffy blinked, and the woman was gone.

  
****

  
Dawn pulled away from the door, having heard the entire exchange.   
Someone else was going to die...and it was because of her. She couldn't   
stand by and let someone take her place.

If Glory wanted the Key so badly, then why not give it to her? Maybe all   
she wanted to do was go back to wherever she came from. The gang said   
she was evil, but it wasn't like she was destroying the town, or   
anything. She said all she wanted was the Key--nothing about destroying   
the world, or dominating it.

Maybe it wouldn't be a bad thing if she handed herself over. It would   
spare her sister from having to risk her life, and it would save whoever   
Glory had caught.

Her mind made up, she slipped into her room and climbed down the   
trellis, heading for the corner of Seventh and Turney.

  
****

  
Buffy sat in bed for several seconds, trying to absorb what Glory had   
just said. Then she was running, or rather limping, down the stairs and   
heading for the kitchen.

Willow and Tara looked at her in surprise as she entered. "Buffy, what's   
wrong?" Tara asked quietly, leaving the eggs in the skillet alone for a   
moment.

"Glory was just in my room, she said she had one of the guys," she   
replied, heading for the phone. "I need to call them and make sure she's   
not lying."

"Oh God--Xander?" Willow said, her panic rising. "Or, or Giles?"

"Don't know yet," Buffy replied, dialing Xander's number. After a couple   
of rings, his voice came over the line.

"Hello?"

"Oh, thank God. Xander, you're home."

"Where else would I be? I have Friday off this week." Buffy quickly   
explained to him about Glory's visit, and after he promised to get over   
to her house as fast as possible, she called Giles' place.

It took a couple more rings than for Xander, but eventually the former   
librarian's voice answered back. With an increase of relief and   
trepidation, Buffy told Giles everything and soon he too was heading   
over to the Summers house.

Buffy paced the length of the kitchen, thinking furiously. "It must be   
Riley, then. She said it was a guy I loved...that has to be Riley,   
right?"

"But would Glory know about Riley? He left before the big stuff started   
coming down," Willow answered. "Maybe she's lying."

"No, she said to do a head count. And if she knows where Riley is, then   
she'd have to know that I don't know where he is. It took her a while   
just to find me, and she only knows about you guys because we took her   
on at the hospital...oh God."

"What, Buffy?"

Buffy looked at Will, disbelief written in her face. "I know who she   
took. It's Spike."

They all shared a round of disbelieving looks. Tara spoke up quietly.   
"How do you know?"

"Glory called Spike my boyfriend, when we last met up. I denied it, but   
maybe she thinks I was lying."

"If she did take him, it would have to be after he left the house last   
night...which was after he carried you from the cemetery and took care   
of you after you were attacked," Willow finished, seeing the pattern,   
herself.

"And he knows Dawn is the Key...but she said he wouldn't tell where the   
Key was, even after...." Buffy's eyes widened in shock.

"Even after what? Buffy?" Willow prodded her friend on.

"She said she beat him up, tortured him, and he still wouldn't tell her.   
She's going to kill him if I don't hand over the Key." She closed her   
eyes, swallowed down a sudden anxiety, then added in a weak voice, "He   
doesn't deserve this. I can't let this happen."

"What are you talking about? You can't go out there and risk getting   
killed--and he can't die unless she beheads or stakes him. She probably   
doesn't know he's a vampire, yet," Willow tried to persuade her softly.

"I can't assume that. She'll figure it out soon enough, anyway." Buffy   
glanced around the kitchen, and now realized one person in particular   
was missing. "Where's Dawn?"

  
****

  
Walking to the bus stop was a bit more daunting than Dawn expected. She   
had to sneak through neighboring yards in order to avoid the streets, in   
case Buffy went looking for her. With any luck, her absence wouldn't be   
noticed until it was too late for Buffy to stop her.

The bus didn't go exactly where she needed to go, but it was close   
enough. After about ten minutes, eventually she found the place--an old   
warehouse that had once been used as storage for a department store   
chain. She walked around until she discovered an opening that had been   
broken into. Cautiously, she opened the heavy metal door and went   
inside.

  
****

  
They spent several minutes checking the house inside and out for some   
sign of Dawn, but it soon became obvious that she wasn't there. Buffy   
was on the verge of panicking, not sure if Dawn had left on her own, or   
had been taken by someone. She prayed that Glory hadn't found her and   
decided to up the ante on the deal.

Giles and Xander came in the door at the same time, both having driven   
as fast as they could in getting there. It took another few precious   
minutes to get them up to speed, glossing over the Spike parts and   
trying to make sense out of the past handful of hours.

"Where was Dawn supposed to be, Willow? Did she say anything about   
leaving, or needing to be somewhere?" Buffy asked.

"The last time I talked to her, she said she was going upstairs. That   
was before Glory paid you a visit."

"Dawn's window wasn't open, but it *was* unlocked. And if she was   
upstairs...she might have overheard you talking. Which means she might   
have decided to run off, so Glory couldn't find her," Tara tried   
helpfully.

Xander's expression darkened. "Or maybe, she thought she could handle   
this on her own. You said Glory told you she had someone held hostage,   
and that they would die if you didn't hand over the Key."

"But Dawn wouldn't--she couldn't have thought that--!" Doubt and fear   
seeped in, and Buffy tried to staunch it before it overwhelmed her. "Oh   
God...we have to get there, *now*. She might have gotten to the   
warehouse by this point."

Giles looked at her in concern. "What if we run into Glory? We're still   
not prepared to face her, if it comes to that."

"You're not facing her--I am. I'm expecting all of you to make sure Dawn   
gets clear of Glory. Let's talk about this on the way there, you guys.   
We're losing time."

  
****

  
Spike flitted in-between consciousness and unconsciousness, the pain so   
extreme that it would jar him awake, then cause him to drift into   
insensibility once again. The first time he'd woken up, he'd found   
himself chained to the wall by his wrists, his feet dangling just above   
the floor. His shirt and shoes had been taken off, though he still had   
his jeans. The glass shards had dug in deeper as he'd stirred, the pain   
causing him to focus on his surroundings.

Glory had stood to one side, as if appraising his condition. Or figuring   
out where to start.

He'd experienced plenty of torture in his life, and seen even more. But   
Glory was a god that had several millennia on him...and she made Angelus   
look unenthusiastic in comparison.

This time upon waking, he found he was still chained to the wall, and if   
the light outside was any indication, he'd been that way for a number of   
hours. Shallow stab wounds in his sides, arms and legs ached, burns on   
his chest and back still seemed like they were on fire, and he could   
taste his own blood in his mouth, partly from a cut on his cheek and   
also from coughing it up. If given enough time, bruises from the bout in   
the crypt and her initial attempts at persuasion would appear where the   
stab wounds were now.

If he had that much time. Glory didn't seem to recognize that he was a   
vampire, or else she would have been using holy water and crosses by   
now. Then again, she hadn't really taken much interest in him, aside   
from demanding the location of the Key and causing him physical pain   
when he refused.

Glory was some distance away, talking to one of her minions. He nodded   
incessantly, calling her "Glorificus" and bestowing on her all sorts of   
indulgent praises. Her voice raised up enough for him to hear.

"I *know* the timetable's moved up. But now it's today? How did that   
happen?"

They mumbled something about outside forces, the rivers of fate and   
unforeseen changes in the weather. She didn't take this well. "So, if   
the Slayer girl doesn't give me my Key, I'll have to wait even longer on   
this horrid dustball of a realm?"

That seemed to be the jist of it, to the minion's great regret. "Great.   
This is *so* wrecking my day." She clutched her head as if she wasn't   
feeling well, but instead of coming to her aid, the minion actually   
moved backwards.

"No, I'm fine for now. But you should probably get me someone, just in   
case. Well, don't just stand there!"

The minion headed out to obey, taking the others with him as he left.   
Glory turned her attention back to her captive, and noticed he was now   
awake.

"Ah, there you are. Still alive, huh? Boy, you human types can be pretty   
resilient. Well, you feel like talking?"

"Go to hell...bitch," Spike managed to reply, his chest heaving with the   
effort.

"You kiss your Slayer with that mouth?" She grinned mischievously. "But   
then, she'll be here soon enough to try and save you, and then I can   
kill her. Of course, if you tell me where the Key is, I won't have to do   
that. You give it to me, and I'll let you both live out your petty lives   
in this hole."

He didn't fear for himself, but the threat against Buffy chilled him   
even colder than he already was. Glory was strong enough to follow   
through with it, and Buffy didn't have a way to defeat her. But he knew   
that she wouldn't show up to save his life. That much, he was sure of.

He summoned up the strength to speak. "She won't come...you stupid bint.   
She won't ever play...by your rules."

Cold anger rose in her eyes, and her smile faded. "What did I tell you   
about your mouth?" she said coldly, and grabbed a short sword from a   
table filled with several sharp and nasty things, most of which had been   
used on him already. The tip was buried in his abdomen before he could   
blink, the pain so excruciating that he forgot to scream. She drove it a   
little deeper then twisted it slightly, causing the darkness to creep   
in, ever so gradually, but he fought for consciousness. He wouldn't pass   
out again and give her the satisfaction.

She drew the blade out without much care, and he bit back a cry of pain.   
Blood seeped out and joined with the older, drying blood on his skin and   
jeans. Spike tried to focus on anything that would keep him from passing   
out, and found his gaze drifting beyond Glory, behind her. A door to the   
outside beckoned cruelly, and the harsh knowledge that he probably   
wouldn't last to see the sunset settled heavily on his shoulder.

Then he saw another door opening, one that the minions hadn't used and   
actually looked like it went into a different part of the warehouse. He   
hadn't thought much of it since it was the door that lead outside which   
was his main concern.

The face that came into focus caused him to change that opinion.

  
****

  
It only took Dawn a moment to recognize the blonde vampire. Part of his   
body was hidden by Glory, but what she could see horrified her. She   
blanched, the truth of Glory's claim hitting her hard. Spike was the one   
she had been talking about. He'd endured this so she wouldn't be harmed.

She'd thought the time they had spent together was all because he wanted   
to get to Buffy through her...that's what everyone had said. But now,   
she didn't believe it. And she couldn't allow this to continue, not if   
she had the power to stop it.

Dawn pushed the door open further, and Spike's eyes widened in alarm. He   
tried to signal to her to go back, but it was to no avail. This was   
going to end, and it was going to end, now.

Glory turned, having already known the girl was at the door. Her smile   
was filled with deceptive cheer. "Hey, what're you doing here, Dawnie? I   
thought I told your sister to bring the Key, not you."

Dawn took a deep breath. "I want you to promise me something. If you get   
the Key, will you let Spike go and leave my sister and the rest of her   
friends alone? Just...go back wherever you came from?"

Glory narrowed her eyes. "Well, sure. I don't really care about them. I   
just want what's mine. You have it?"

"No! Don't tell--" Spike yelled out, but Glory stopped him by punching   
right where she'd just stabbed him. He cried out, the wave of pain   
nearly causing him to pass out, once again.

"Please! Stop hurting him! I'll tell you what you want to know, just   
stop it!"

"Okay, fine. I'll keep my end of the bargain, as long as you do. So,   
where's my Key?"

Dawn ignored Spike's gaze, knowing what she'd see. "Right here. I'm this   
Key you're looking for."

  
****

  
Spike watched with dread as Glory approached Dawn...and then the goddess   
laughed in disbelief

"You're kidding, right? You, the Key?" She glanced back over to Spike,   
and he tried to cover up his fear with amusement. "Is this her idea of a   
joke?"

"Don't ask me. I thought she was really gonna tell you there, for a   
second," Spike answered.

"I *am* telling the truth," Dawn replied, earning a glare from Spike and   
another shrewd look from Glory. "I'm trying to save my sister and her   
friends from what Glory did to you--and I'm trying to get you set free."

"Go home, niblet. The only thing you're gonna end up doing is getting   
your sister all worried about you."

Glory had fallen silent, not a good state of affairs as far as Spike was   
concerned. She walked over until she stood next to Dawn and placed her   
hand on the girl's head. "Well, there's a quick way to find out who's   
telling the truth."

Before Spike could offer some sort of plea or distraction, a white glow   
began to emanate from Glory's hand. She grinned rapturously, and looked   
at the girl differently now, as one would regard a prized possession.

"You *are* my Key! No wonder the Slayer wouldn't hand you over--of   
course, big sis protecting the little one of the herd. Getting those   
mommy instincts," Glory said, then winced slightly. "*Where* are my   
minions? They should've been able to find somebody by now!"

"Okay, so you believe me. A deal's a deal--let Spike go and you can go   
home and never bother my family and friends again."

Glory grabbed Dawn by the throat. "Don't dictate to me. *I* am the god   
in this room. Your sister will eventually find him, and he can tell her   
what happened. For now, my time is approaching. I can't wait for the   
minions to show up--too bad for them."

Dawn's eyes widened in fear, but she didn't struggle. Glory lifted her   
off the ground by the throat, and carried her into the center of the   
room, chanting in some ancient language as she did so. Spike tried to   
break free of the chains, but he was too weak to do more than strain   
against them.

She finished the chant with a flourish, and a green glow manifested   
itself around Dawn. Her form started to glow from within, and then she   
changed into a brilliant green energy, still shaped as the human girl   
she once was. Then, the glow expanded and flattened into a portal, with   
Dawn's human body visible on the inside, and Glory and the rest of the   
world on the other. The realm itself was pearl grey, not unlike the sky   
outside. Dawn's body looked like it was behind smoked glass, the colors   
lacking their vitality.

Glory dropped the girl's body on the inside, discarded as little more   
than luggage. She hit whatever passed for a floor in that netherrealm   
bonelessly, and Spike realized with a creeping horror that the girl was   
likely dead.

"What--what did you do to her?"

Glory shrugged, then cackled unevenly. "I used her. What you humans do   
to each other. It's no different--she's just a key, a tool I need to get   
what I want. Whatever the monks made her, she's gone now. Anything   
living that goes through the portal dies." She stretched languorously.   
"I can't wait to get rid of this disgusting body!"

Suddenly, she grabbed her head in pain, crying out. Wondering what all   
this was about, he watched for a sign of weakness, or what might be   
causing it. She mumbled something that he would typically expect out of   
Drusilla's mouth, not a god's, but then she refocused with some effort   
and turned to face him.

"But I could use a little snack before I go."

  
****

  
The drive to the warehouse went faster than expected, thanks to Giles   
driving faster than the posted speed limit, and accelerating through   
yellow lights. They parked next to the warehouse and filed out with as   
much stealth as they could muster. Buffy went in first, trailed by   
Willow and Giles. Xander and Tara followed up, checking behind them to   
make sure no one followed them in.

They had unknowingly taken the same way in as Dawn, so when Buffy opened   
the next door, it revealed Spike hanging from the wall, bloody and   
nearly cut open, with Glory walking over to him. She heard something   
from Glory about having a snack, then registered Spike's confused fear.

Buffy pushed the door the rest of the way, slamming it against the wall   
with sufficient force to make everyone behind her jump. "Okay, enough's   
enough, Glory. Where's Dawn?"

"Oh, she's been and gone." She continued approaching Spike, and he   
didn't even have enough energy to try and twist away from her.

"Walk away from him and I might not rip your lungs out, bitch."

This made Glory stop, finally. "You can try, little girl. But you can't,   
and you know it--and you can't stop me from doing this, either!" Her   
hands reached for Spike's head, and to Buffy's horror, her fingers   
started to glow and sink into his head. He strained futilely against   
her, and Buffy began to run over, hoping to stop whatever Glory was   
doing, when the goddess herself paused, her movement showing her   
confusion.

"What the hell--?!" Then she screamed, a pain that Buffy had never seen   
inflicted on her. Her fingers pulled out quickly, bringing with it a   
small square piece. The plastic and metal flew out of Glory's hand and   
skittered across the poured concrete floor, landing just short of   
Buffy's feet.

The chip. Had it done something to Glory? The blonde Slayer didn't   
consider it long, since Spike was now taking full advantage of the   
chip's absence. With an effort that must have caused him intense agony,   
he lifted his feet up and, using the wall as a brace, shoved Glory hard   
enough that she flew across the room and into the far wall, not far from   
where Buffy and the gang now stood.

The supernatural being was slow in getting up, muttering something   
angrily under her breath. Then, she clutched her head in a wave of pain,   
staggered and fell to her knees.

"No! It's not your time, it's my time, mine mine mine! I'm in control,   
you can't do this, not nooooow!" She started to sweat in exertion,   
trying to fight off whatever it was. Then she began to change shape, the   
strain causing her excessive torment and gradually, another form--  
person--took over her body. To everyone's surprise, it wasn't just a   
person change, but a gender change, as well.

He blinked and looked around, then caught sight of Buffy and the group,   
and replied shakily, "This isn't exactly how I planned on coming out."

  
****

  
Spike held on to consciousness, but it was a struggle. His body screamed   
for an escape from the pain, but he wouldn't allow it--especially not   
with the chip removed and the gang watching him with wary glances.

He recognized the man-boy...the guy that Buffy had been talking to at   
the party. Was it really only two days ago? And he was Glory, or vice   
versa? An interesting development, and it confirmed to him that the   
Slayer had horrible taste in men.

She was pretty shocked, herself. Seeing him in one of Glory's outfits   
didn't help, either. "Ben...I, I don't believe this."

"I can explain--"

"That you lied to me? You let me believe you were normal, and now I find   
out that you're way on the opposite side of it." Her jaw set in a   
defiant way that Spike knew all too well. "Now, are you going to tell me   
where my sister is, or do I--"

"Buffy," Xander called out, now staring at the portal. "Dawn's in   
there."

She turned to see what Xander meant, and saw for herself; her baby   
sister lying inside the translucent wall of the portal, her skin ashen   
and lifeless. "Is she...is she okay?" She looked to Ben for an answer.

Ben grimaced, "No, she's not. Dawn is the Key to the portal, and when   
Glory activated it, the energy inside her was used to open the portal.   
Her body is just a shell--her lifeforce sustains the portal opening."

"Well, I'm going to go in and get her," Buffy started for the gateway,   
but Ben held her back.

"You can't. Anything living will die the second they cross the   
threshold. You'd fall lifeless on the other side. And despite what I am,   
the same goes for me."

Buffy wriggled of his grip, stymied for the moment. Spike turned it over   
in his mind, and came up with the logical solution. "Why don't you just   
let me go in and get her?"

The group faced him, en masse. Everyone but Ben and Buffy hesitated at   
the idea, not willing to let him out of his restraints, even in his   
present condition. He sighed with restrained exasperation.

"Look, I'm already dead--the field can't hurt me. If you're worried I'll   
try something, well, look at me. I'm not in any shape to fight anyone,   
now am I? Besides, the chip was only an inhibitor--it never made me do   
or feel anything. What you've seen from me, last night and before then,   
that was me, chip or no chip."

Buffy walked over silently, the others watching her in anxiety. She   
stood in front of him, taking in the massive amounts of blood he'd lost   
and the gashes, cuts, burns and stabs on his body. "You know I can't   
just let you walk out of here. But you're right...you're the only one   
that can bring her out. I'll have to take your word on it that the chip   
was just a deterrent." And with that, she reached over, grabbed an   
unused axe from the table of weapons, and hacked off the chain just   
short of the wrist.

The relief of being let down quickly changed into sheer torment for   
Spike, as muscles cramped from being in one position complained and the   
cuts pulled in new and painful ways. He heard Buffy gasp, and realized   
that she was looking at his back.

"Yeah, Glory didn't miss an inch. The glass is from my telly screen, and   
I'm not too happy 'bout that," he breathed out, using the wall to help   
support legs that had gone numb. "So, let's get this on, shall we?"

"Hold on," Ben spoke up. Now that he came closer, he could see the   
wounds inflicted on Spike more clearly. "There's something you should   
know, before you do this. The portal works both ways--if a living person   
dies going in, a dead person leaving will be brought back to life. If   
you go through both ways, you won't be an undead creature anymore. And I   
can tell you right now, the wounds and trauma you've suffered will   
probably kill you seconds after coming back out."

Spike froze, the man-god's words echoing in his ears. Alive? However,   
his death would be on the heels of it, permanent this time. But if he   
didn't, the niblet would never be brought back. Unless...

"Angel...maybe he should do it, then. He'd become human and all. That's   
what everyone wants, isn't it?"

Buffy looked hopeful for a second, but Ben shook his head doubtfully, "I   
can feel Glory fighting me already. If he can't get here in the next few   
minutes, then I can't say for sure what will happen. You have to   
understand--this portal leads to the place where souls reside, and it's   
why Glory wants to get there so badly; she drains part of the soul away   
in order to maintain her strength and sanity. For her, it's the source   
of unlimited power."

Spike closed his eyes for only a moment; the decision was made. "I'll do   
it."

"Spike, no--we can find a vampire, somewhere, make them do it--"

"In the daytime, with only a few minutes to spare?" His resolute   
demeanor changed into amazement; was he really seeing concern in her   
eyes? His voice softened at the possibility of it being true. "Sorry,   
pet. It's been a good run, though. And you'd probably just have to stake   
me, anyway."

The last was spoken half-heartedly, but pain flashed across her face.   
"If you don't do this, you'll heal on your own. You realize what you're   
sacrificing here, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do, love. I do." He reached out and touched her cheek, brushing   
away a loose strand of hair. His hand settled along the side of her   
face, and her hand reached up and covered his, holding it in place.   
Their eyes met, and he couldn't tear his gaze from her, drinking in   
every feature, knowing it might be the last time he'd ever see her. He   
pulled away before the moment was spoiled, thinking he could now die   
happily because of her kindness.

Ben and Buffy helped him stagger over to the portal, Ben explaining on   
the way what the plan was. "You'll go in first, then I'll follow. When I   
cross over, the body I'm in will die and Glory and I will be released. I   
don't know how fast she'll be able to recover, so we'll both have to   
work fast. Have Dawn in your arms before I jump in, but don't leave   
before I come in...carrying Dawn out will close the portal as well as   
bring her back alive."

Spike nodded in understanding, then they were standing in front of the   
gateway, Dawn's body on the other side. The bottom of the portal hung   
three feet off the ground, so with a little help from Ben and Buffy,   
Spike got through the portal and found himself on the other side.

He expected to feel something as he came through, and the lack of   
sensation disturbed him. The realm didn't have a smell, or taste, or   
sound...every footfall and rustle was silent. The floor underneath his   
feet felt like solid air, which didn't look any different from the misty   
grey surroundings.

A breeze seemed to blow past his neck, but there was no wind. Another   
brushed past his arm, and he wondered if it might be the touch of a   
soul. His reverie faded as he focused on Dawn, pale in the ever present   
light. He gently took her into his arms, ignoring the protest from his   
limbs and back, then noticed how cold she was. Soon she would be okay,   
and he tried to not dwell on what lay in store for him, on the other   
side of the gateway.

He saw Ben on the other side, waiting. Spike moved with enormous effort,   
not just carrying his own weight, but the girl's as well. Once he   
reached the edge, he nodded to the man-god that he was ready.

Ben jumped in and instantly fell dead to one side of Spike--wasting not   
a moment, the vampire leapt out and landed on solid ground, the tremor   
of the landing sending painful shocks up his legs. He gulped in air as   
if surfacing from the bottom of a deep pool, and heard Dawn do the same.   
His legs buckled from the pain and he fell to his knees, still holding   
on to her.

Someone took her from him, and he managed to keep himself from falling   
on his face with unsteady arms. He noticed a strange sensation in his   
chest and realized it was his heart beating, for the first time in 120   
years.

Quickly losing his fight to stay conscious, his arms trembled with a   
lack of strength, collapsing underneath him. He toppled to the floor,   
the terrible pain and the feeling of being alive almost too much for him   
to bear. He managed to see Buffy's face one more time before the   
darkness came, pulling him into the refuge of senselessness.

  
****

  
"Spike? Spike!" Buffy shook him, but his eyes had closed and his   
breathing was becoming more and more shallow. His skin was no longer   
quite so cold, but the pumping of his heart was causing the blood to   
come out only that much faster.

Having made sure that Dawn was fine, Giles came over to her side,   
appraising Spike's condition both by touch and look. When he stopped,   
the expression on his face wasn't good. "He's gone into shock."

"Does anyone have a cell phone?" Buffy called out frantically, her hands   
pressing down on the deep wound in his abdomen, trying to staunch the   
flow of blood.

Tara dug through her personal bag, and brought out her portable phone.   
"I have mine--do, do you want me to call 911?"

"Yes, please," Buffy replied, glancing around for some kind of cloth to   
help soak up the blood. "Quick, somebody--help me here. We can't just   
let him die!"

"Why not?" Xander replied, his voice much too calm. "He's a murderer.   
Why not let him die? He knew the risk."

Her hard gaze fell on him, and he flinched. The tone of voice that came   
from her was cold fury. "No one is dying on my watch, understand? Not   
now." Not so soon after not being able to save her mother. The truth   
hung in the air, obvious but unmentionable.

Buffy closed her eyes, pushing back the despair. She wasn't going to   
have him die on her, not like this. Tara's voice broke through the   
trance-like she'd drifted into, pulling her back to the present.

"They said they'll be here in a couple minutes. They were already in the   
area."

Buffy offered a silent thanks to whomever had been responsible for that   
benevolence. Maybe it was Ben, she thought idly, then shook herself out   
of that line of thought. It was hard just trying to deal with the sudden   
revelation of who he really was. Cripes, was she doomed to only attract   
the supernatural?

It felt like more than a couple minutes before the paramedics arrived,   
but her gratitude and trepidation couldn't have been greater when they   
finally came. Spike was still breathing, but his skin was growing colder   
in a way that was no longer normal for him.

The two paramedics took over, and Buffy pulled away in a haze of memory,   
reliving the horror of her mother's death all over again. But this time,   
what she heard from the paramedics was more encouraging.

"He's still alive, and breathing--but he's crashing hard. BP is falling   
and he's in deep shock. Prep him for transport." The older one, a man in   
his late thirties, turned to Buffy and asked, "How long has he been like   
this?"

"I don't know, m-maybe a couple hours?" She answered, and the medic   
shook his head.

"It's amazing that he's alive." The man turned back to Spike, and the   
two men lifted him onto a gurney and hauled him off the ground. Buffy   
followed them out the door, holding it open as they left. The gang   
trailed behind, mostly surprised at Buffy's attitude but not willing to   
question it.

Buffy demanded on going with them to the hospital, and they let her hop   
into the back. She took a place by Spike's side and watched the   
paramedic work to keep him alive long enough to make it to the hospital-  
-where they could hopefully work a miracle.

  
****

  
Willow wrapped an arm around Dawn as they watched the ambulance leave,   
tearing down the street at a breakneck pace. "You all right, Dawn?"

"I'm fine," she answered for the fifth time. She didn't remember   
anything beyond the chanting Glory had done, then the next thing she   
knew, a wounded Spike was holding her in his arms, and she sucked in a   
lungful of air in reflex. Willow and Xander had taken her away from   
Spike, who had quickly sagged to the ground and fell unconscious.

They explained to her what happened, but it was still overwhelming--and   
now Spike might die so she could live. All she'd managed to do was   
accelerate the process, rather than get rid of it.

The one bright spot was that Glory was gone. Dawn clung to that truth   
with a relief that was palpable. She wasn't in danger any longer, and   
the people in her life were safe--or as safe as you could get, when you   
lived on the Hellmouth.

The gang started to head over to Giles' car, when the sound of steel   
clanging against steel drew their attention. To their amazement, a   
cluster of men dressed in armor approached them, out of place in any   
situation outside of a medieval battle re-enactment.

The leader spoke up, holding a bloodied sword out in front of him. "We   
know you have the Key--where is it?"

Xander stepped up to the challenge. "It's gone, and so is Glory...so you   
can pack up your swords and Renaissance festival gear and give out a   
mighty 'good journey and fare thee well!' on your way out."

"Don't mock us, boy; We're the Knights of Byzantium, and we're not to be   
trifled with. We've taken down the Beast's minions and now we're here to   
deal with the Beast, herself."

Willow sighed in disgust. "Didn't you just hear us? Hello? She's gone   
for good. You're late for the party, shiny guy."

"She's right...you might as well go home. The Key is gone and Glory with   
it. If you don't believe us you can go in there, yourselves," Giles   
added. The knights shuffled around a bit, muttering amongst themselves.

Finally, the leader declared, somewhat petulantly, "We're going to have   
to investigate this."

Giles rolled his eyes. "Fine. Do whatever you like. We'll be going   
then," he replied, and everyone walked away from the confused knights,   
not caring about anything but getting to the hospital to check on Buffy   
and Spike, then going home and allowing themselves to relax, for the   
first time in months.

  
****

  
The ride in the ambulance had been harrowing, watching the paramedic   
work while he asked her a barrage of questions; was he allergic to any   
medications, what was his prior medical history, and so on--none of   
which she could answer with any certainty.

Soon they were climbing back out again, and the emergency room erupted   
into controlled chaos. Buffy tried to follow him, but a nurse pulled her   
away and tried to get more medical information that she didn't know out   
of her.

Seeing Buffy's distress, the woman asked her what his name was. Buffy   
thought she could answer that, at least, but then realized she didn't   
know his last name. "He's--we call him Spike, but his first name is   
William. I don't know his last name, I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Why don't you have a seat over here, and the doctor will   
come out to talk to you as soon as he can."

Buffy nodded, having done this before. There would paperwork, of course,   
and since Spike had obviously been attacked, the police would be called.   
Thankfully, she and the police had come to an uneasy understanding over   
the years--if she told them the attacker was supernatural, they would   
nod, write it down in their notebook, and leave without too much follow-  
up.

She stared down at her hands, noticing for the first time that they were   
covered in his blood. Some of it was also on her sweater, a dark purple   
one she had thrown on after looking for Dawn in the house, but it was   
dark enough that the blood didn't really show. A small blessing,   
perhaps.

The adrenaline tapered off, leaving her leg and ribs burning from pain   
and fatigue. Slayer strength had kept her from falling on her face for   
this long, but it couldn't hold out definitely. She stood up to try and   
find a washroom to clean off her hands, but just then a doctor--a man   
who was at least in his early fifties, and looked more like a kind uncle   
at that moment--approached her warily.

"I'm Dr. Kingsley. Are you the one who came with William?"

"Yes! Yes, I am--is he going to be okay?" She laced her fingers together   
nervously, dreading the news.

"He's stable for the moment. As you probably know, he's lost a lot of   
blood and the lacerations on his body are pretty severe. We removed the   
glass shards from his back, and luckily his burns don't seem to have any   
deep tissue damage, but a burn specialist will have to determine that   
for sure. He's being taken up to the operating room, since he has some   
interior damage from the deep puncture wound in his abdomen, and there's   
been a substantial amount of internal bleeding."

"What...are his chances of surviving? Realistically?"

The doctor shook his head. "I won't hedge this with you; he's in   
critical condition. The fact that he's held on this long is a good sign,   
but surviving through surgery will be the first milestone." He looked at   
her in compassion, then added, "If you know of any family members of his   
that you can contact, you'd better do so as soon as possible."

Buffy's expression was bittersweet. "He doesn't have any family. They   
all died a long time ago."

The kindly man nodded in understanding. "What about you? Is there   
someone you can call?"

Reflexively she thought of her mother, and then she felt the tears   
welling up in her eyes, unable to stop them. The fact that she wouldn't   
ever be able to call her mom for help again hit her hard in a moment   
when she wasn't prepared to deal with the cold reality. "I have friends   
who should be coming soon."

Dr. Kingsley put a hand on her shoulder in comfort. "Are you all right?"

Buffy wiped the tears from her eyes with a clean edge of her sleeve.   
"Yeah, I'm sorry, I just--I lost my mom yesterday. And my dad's in   
France and I can't reach him," her voice broke on the last word, her   
grief threatening to take over.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't realize...why don't I have a nurse stay with you   
until your friends show up."

The offer yanked her back into the present. "No, no, that's so nice of   
you, but I don't want to burden anyone. They'll be here soon, anyway.   
But thanks for offering." She gave him a watery smile, and after he   
promised to make sure someone would check on her in a while, he left to   
head back to the emergency room.

Rather than sitting back on the vinyl couch, Buffy darted to the nearest   
washroom to clean off her hands and face, and try to pull herself back   
together, both for her sake and for Spike's.

  
****

  
By the time Buffy came out of the washroom, the rest of the gang had   
arrived. She ran into Tara in the hallway, and she lead her back to the   
waiting room where everyone but Giles was sitting down. Before she could   
ask where he was, he came over from the direction of the main desk.

"There you are, Buffy! The nurse thought you were over here..."

"I was, I just...had to wash blood off my hands," she held them out for   
show, having managed to get most of it off. "The blood stains on the   
sweater, I'll have to do that at home."

The group fell into awkward silence, then Dawn walked over and hugged   
her sister, the first chance they'd gotten to truly reunite since the   
conflict was resolved. Buffy gratefully took that hug, thankful that   
things hadn't gone worse than they did. "I'm gonna talk to you later   
about what you did, Dawn, but for now I want you to go home with Willow   
and Tara."

"Buffy, c'mon. I'm old enough to stay."

"That's not the issue," she replied, in her best mom-voice. "You'll be   
less bored at home. And you've got friends of your own that you need to   
talk with."

"I don't care. I want to stay until we know Spike is going to be all   
right."

Buffy pulled away and looked at her sister, smiling in gratitude. "We   
aren't going to know that for hours, Dawn."

"Hours?" She seemed to rethink the idea. "How many hours, do you think?"

"Several. He's in the operating room right now. They won't know more   
until the surgery's over with."

Dawn looked down at the floor, then rallied with, "Could I stay for a   
little while? An hour?"

"Thirty minutes."

Dawn crossed her arms. "Forty-five. And not a minute less."

"You drive a hard bargain, but I guess it's doable." Buffy guided Dawn   
over to a chair, then sat next to Willow on the couch. Xander was   
walking around aimlessly, but when he noticed Buffy's continued silence,   
he spoke up on something that obviously had been churning in his mind.

"I don't get it--why are we here, Buffy? He's not a part of the group.   
We already agreed that we weren't going to be his patsies."

She stared at him as if he were blind. Or stupid. "Xander, he's human   
now. He's not a vampire anymore."

"So, that's supposed to mean he's all cuddly now? Spike the big ol'   
human teddy bear?"

Willow looked at him in surprise. "Xander--"

"No, Willow. Let me finish. Do you think I forgot that I got the crap   
beaten out of me by him when he came back here, crying over Drusilla? Or   
anything of the other things he's done in the past? Since he was   
chipped, I let it slide...but he's not being held back, anymore. And   
there's no guarantee a soul is going to make him Mr. Nice Guy."

"Xander, you know better than this," Buffy replied with deadly calm.   
"The soul he has now is going to cause remorse and guilt, if he lives   
through surgery and manages to recover. If what you want is an apology,   
then I suggest you be quiet and wait this out, like the rest of us."

He stared at her, incredulous. "Why do you care so much what happens to   
him? It's not like he wasn't using us to get to you, pretending to go   
along and getting well paid for it, I might add. I'm sure that once he's   
awake, his little demon-fueled Slayer obsession will be gone and he'll   
be back to his annoying deadly self."

"Shut *up*, Xander," Buffy heard from her right, and to her surprise and   
Xander's shock, it had come from Dawn. Her eyes were full of a contempt   
that had never been targeted at him before.

Xander smiled shakily. "Hey, Dawn, I didn't mean--"

"Just shut up! You don't know *anything*, okay? He saved Buffy's life   
last night, and he's in surgery right now because he saved mine. And   
now, all we're doing is talking about whether he should have died, or   
not? What kind of gratitude is that? He might have sacrificed his life   
to bring me back, and if he dies I'll never get to tell him I'm sorry--"   
she broke off, her voice failing her. No one said a word, as a wave of   
reproach and shame echoed around the room.

Xander cleared his throat at last. "I'm sorry, Dawn. I just...I guess   
I'm still angry at him. I can't just absolve him that quickly, but I   
shouldn't have said it like that. I'm not thinking." His eyes widened   
with dread, and then he added, "Oh, I'm definitely not thinking. I   
didn't tell Anya that I left my apartment. She doesn't know where I am--  
I'd better call her before I find out I don't have an apartment to go   
back to. Excuse me." And with that, he dashed off to the row of pay   
phones nearby.

"He's definitely ex-demon-whipped," Willow nodded sagely, and Buffy   
couldn't help her smile of amusement, even in the face of more impending   
gloom.

  
****

  
The police came shortly afterwards, catching Xander before he left to go   
back and get his car from Buffy's house--Anya didn't take kindly to   
being left out of the loop, and he had some serious groveling to do to   
get back in her good graces. The questioning didn't last long, once   
Buffy mentioned her name and indicated that the perpetrator was   
supernatural in origin. The male and female officers nodded uneasily,   
took down their statements, and left--the relief evident on both sides.

Most of an hour went by, and Buffy forced Dawn to head home with Willow   
and Tara. That left Giles and Buffy alone in the room, waiting for   
whatever news the doctors would bring.

More hours went by, containing a small lunch break and a couple snacks   
for nourishment. After Buffy had already picked the magazine selection   
clean of all the interesting articles she could find, and was now   
starting on the not-so-boring ones, another doctor dressed in scrubs   
walked over to them, identifying himself as Dr. Shafer. A pale tall man,   
he looked like he was possibly in his early thirties. When they asked   
how Spike was, the doctor smiled in wonder.

"He's pulled through surgery just fine. It's amazing how much damage and   
blood loss he sustained--we didn't expect things to go so well. But we   
went in, fixed the internal damage and bleeding, and stitched up the   
larger gashes and lacerations. Right now he's in ICU. His blood pressure   
has gone back up, so that's good. I couldn't have asked for better post-  
surgery results, really. He's a fighter, I can tell you that."

Buffy smiled in relief. "He sure is. Can we see him?"

"Not just yet. He's still out of it, and while he's stable right now,   
it's not a good idea to have visitors until he's showing more   
improvement. If his vitals continue to improve, we'll certainly let you   
know." Seeing Buffy's dismayed look, he added, "Well, I guess there's no   
reason you can't look in on him, from the window."

Grateful, she thanked him and with Giles trailing behind, she followed   
the doctor to the ICU section.

This area of the wing was strangely quiet, with the waiting room outside   
the area rather than inside. Giles waited there while Buffy signed in as   
a visitor, and the doctor led her over to the room.

Unlike most hospital rooms, the ones in the ICU had large windows so the   
nurses could keep an eye on the patients better. He gestured to the   
window, and she swallowed down her panic. There were tubes and equipment   
everywhere, nearly blocking her view inside, but she could see a   
familiar pale form lying in the bed, hooked up to several different   
devices that monitored his progress.

She wanted to go in, to help somehow, but in her mind she knew the only   
thing she could do was wait. Buffy watched in fascination as Spike's   
chest rose and fell, the monitor keeping tabs on his heartbeat and other   
stats. The whole idea of Spike being human was still so new, she could   
barely believe it.

Dr. Shafer nudged her, and tipped his head back towards the exit.   
Unwillingly, she followed him, signed out of the ICU, and sat in the   
waiting room with Giles, anticipating the time when she could be inside   
the room, and not just looking in.

  
****

  
It was another hour and a half before someone came to tell them more   
news, although this time it was Dr. Kingsley. His smile was even more   
enthusiastic than before, bordering on awe. Buffy and Giles took that as   
good news, and they were right--more right than they could have thought.

"William's being moved out of the ICU. We'll be prepping a room for him   
upstairs, so he can have visitors without disturbing the other patients.   
I have to say, never in my years of medicine have I seen such a fast   
recovery. It's...well, I don't use this term lightly, but that's what   
this is. It's a miracle, plain and simple."

"You're serious?" Buffy replied, more than a bit puzzled. "I mean, he's   
healing that fast?"

Kingsley shook in head in wonder. "It's amazing. I've never seen   
anything like it."

Buffy shared a concerned look with Giles. Both of them certainly had,   
but it wasn't due to a miracle. She covered the awkwardness with genuine   
thanks for everything Kingsley done, and happiness that Spike was going   
to be fine, after all. The doctor left believing nothing was amiss, but   
Giles and Buffy knew better.

"Giles--what's going on? He's human now, he's not supposed to be healing   
this fast," Buffy asked in a hushed voice, mindful of the other people   
in the ICU's waiting room.

"I don't know. Maybe--maybe it's just a gift from the Powers That Be, a   
one time occurrence."

Buffy doubted that. "They wouldn't accelerate his healing to the point   
of obvious supernatural help. It's like he's healing like I would. But   
that's impossible...isn't it?"

Giles stared at the floor in thought. "Maybe the demon in him never   
left. Just because he's turned human again and has a soul--it doesn't   
mean that the demon would leave, necessarily. If it's still there, then   
it would explain the unnatural healing. He wouldn't have to drink blood   
because he's alive, but he might still be physically strong, like he was   
before."

"Does that mean he could still be under the thrall of the demon? Is he a   
danger to others?" Buffy fought to keep her tone quiet.

"Let's not jump to conclusions. When we get the chance to talk to him,   
we'll know more about what's going on."

Buffy sat there for a long while, deep in thought. Disturbing ideas   
started to coalesce in her mind, questions and doubts she'd always had   
were beginning to form an unsettling picture.

"Giles," she asked in a small voice, "if the demon theory is true...what   
does that say about where my powers come from? I have the same strength   
and ability to heal as the vampires do, and I told you about how I   
started hunting, but it's more than just that. Maybe I end up attracting   
vampires because our source of power comes from the same place."

"No, that's not in the texts. It's the spirit of the Slayer--"

"But what *is* that, Giles?" She glanced around the room, then said,   
"I'm afraid to look inside myself and see what's there, but I have to   
know...if there's some kind of demon in me."

Giles stared at her in horror, not even willing to imagine it. "You   
can't think that, Buffy. You are a 20 year-old young woman, who was   
chosen by some means that most of us can barely fathom. The Powers That   
Be are benevolent, and they wouldn't allow the Slayer's power to come   
from what they fight against."

"But when you're in a war, you use your enemy's weapons against them. If   
it meant using it...or patterning the spirit on the sort of demon   
inhabiting a vampire, then it's not too different, in the end. Is it?"

Giles continued to disbelieve, but his own doubts were starting to worm   
their way in. "Well, we'll know more when Spike is awake. Don't think   
about it until then, all right?"

Buffy nodded, but despite the promise, she could think of nothing else.

  
****

  
They had dinner at the hospital cafeteria, then Buffy called Dawn and   
updated her on Spike's condition, which instantly cheered her up. She   
immediately wanted to come back to the hospital, but Buffy told her to   
wait until morning, at least--the visiting hours were only until eight   
o'clock. Her little sister didn't like it, but it made enough sense that   
she didn't argue.

A nurse came over to tell them where Spike's room was and let them know   
they could only stay for five minutes. When they got there, he was still   
unconscious, but that wasn't unusual. Buffy remembered from prior   
experience that the anesthetic took a while to wear off.

There weren't as many machines this time, but he still looked pale.   
Giles frowned when he saw Spike lying in the bed, as if he didn't truly   
expect to find the former vampire there. Buffy walked to the near side   
of the bed and rested her hand on top of his, the skin cool to the   
touch, but not cold. She wrapped her hand around his as best as she   
could, as if hoping her warmth would help him recover faster, if only by   
a little.

She was about to pull her hand away, to find a chair to sit in, when she   
felt his fingers tighten around hers. Buffy watched him slowly awaken,   
and his eyes opened at last on his surroundings, then fell on her.

"Hey, Slayer," Spike said quietly, his throat too dry to speak much   
louder.

"Hey, yourself. How you feeling?" Buffy asked..

"M'not dead. Don't feel much pain." He swallowed, trying to regain his   
voice. "Must be getting what they call the good stuff."

"Which is why it's so good. Water?"

"Yes, please," he asked, and Buffy noticed a more proper edge to his   
accent, the rough and tumble element not quite so obvious. He gulped   
down a glass of water Buffy poured for him, and managed to get down   
another before she urged him to lie back down.

"You're probably dehydrated from the burns, but I don't want you   
drinking too much too fast. Don't want any Nurse Nazis on my case," she   
smiled.

"S'okay. I'm in a hospital bed...guess this means I'm not dying?" He was   
somewhat disoriented, looking around at the wires and tubes sticking   
from him.

"Far from. The doctors say they've never seen such a fast recovery."

He gave her and Giles a concerned look, picking up on their sudden   
uneasiness. "I take it that's not a usual thing, right?"

Giles cleared his throat. "Maybe you can answer this question for us. Do   
you feel any different than before? Weaker, physically?"

Spike frowned in thought, then tried flexing his arm experimentally.   
"Now that you mention it...no, not really. A little out of it thanks to   
the painkillers and all, but I don't feel that different. Well, aside   
from the being alive part, of course." He looked at Giles in sudden   
comprehension. "Wait a minute. Do you think--"

"That's precisely what we want to make sure of, before there's any   
unpleasantries. If the demon is still there inside you, we ought to be   
sure that it won't be able to take over."

Spike leaned back into the pillows, stunned at the turn of events. He   
didn't expect to be alive, let alone...this. "Yeah, I can still feel it.   
I remember the instinct, the hunger, the violence. But there's another   
part of me that's got an equal say in the matter."

"It's the soul," Buffy commented softly, her eyes fixed on the window,   
viewing the growing darkness outside. "I guess having a soul back didn't   
evict the demon, but it prevents the darkness from taking over. It's   
going to be a choice you'll have to make."

"And the choosing part isn't as easy as it looks," Spike finished the   
thought. Buffy turned to look at him, agreeing in spite of herself.   
Their eyes locked, and they both had the sensation that a bridge had   
formed between them, something built from shared experience. Giles   
shuffled a bit, more than able to tell that something was happening   
between the two former enemies, and he wasn't sure he wanted to find out   
what it was.

The nurse came in just then, to let them know that the five minutes were   
up. She wasn't surprised to find Spike awake, but she was taken aback at   
how strong he seemed. As she went to go get the doctor, Buffy took the   
opportunity to walk back over to his side.

"I'll be back tomorrow. And don't tease the nurses," she said, half-  
serious.

He merely smiled with mock-innocence and answered, "Wherever did you get   
that idea, Summers?"

"*What* am I going to do with you?" She replied in false exasperation,   
then impetuously kissed him on the forehead and left, leaving a stunned   
Giles and a bemused Spike in her wake.

  
****

  
The next morning dawned clear but cold, though the sun helped warm   
things up once it lifted high enough to make a difference. Before Dawn   
woke up, Buffy headed out to the cemetery to Spike's crypt.

The medics had cut his jeans off of him, so Spike didn't have any   
clothes to leave the hospital in. With luck, she'd be able to find   
something for him to wear, maybe even the clothes he'd worn during his   
last botched attempts at trying to appear normal.

When she walked inside, the amount of damage to the place took her   
breath away. Spike hadn't gone without a fight; the broken furniture,   
cracked masonry and destroyed knick-knacks attested to that. A cardboard   
box was off to the side, and a quick peek inside revealed the contents   
of the shrine she'd found only a few days ago. Had he planned to do   
something with that? Or had he finally given up hope?

The contents helped her hit on where his clothes might be, and she   
headed to the back and pushed the stone slab aside, revealing a familiar   
space underneath. Pushing aside bad memories, she headed down the ladder   
and looked around, hoping for a clue. No leftovers of the shrine, for   
which she was thankful, but everything else was the same.

She found a stash of clothes in a chest off to one side, and picked out   
what looked the cleanest and least wrinkled--a grey long-sleeved shirt   
and a pair of dark taupe slacks, along with a brown leather jacket.   
Shoes were next to the chest, and a quick hunt through found her a pair   
of socks that matched. Buffy didn't analyze why she was going to all   
this trouble, since that would involve a round of Deep Thinking she   
wasn't up to. Especially since she had kissed him on the forehead like   
that, another place she didn't want to go. It was best not to dwell on   
it.

Dawn was waiting for her when she got back, and eyed the clothes with a   
curiosity that made Buffy a little nervous. "It's for Spike. He's going   
to need clothes in order to leave the hospital, and I went to his place   
to get some. That's all."

"What'd you bring?" Dawn asked, ignoring what Buffy had said. "Ooh, the   
grey shirt. I liked that one. Guess you did too, huh?"

Buffy narrowed her eyes. "Did you eat breakfast?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Let's go," Buffy answered, and yanked her sister towards the door, and   
to the car in the driveway.

  
****

  
The nurses smiled in recognition when Buffy entered, some Dawn   
recognized from...before, and some she knew from her short stay   
yesterday. She tried to get Buffy to go into the gift shop, since they   
couldn't visit Spike empty-handed, but Buffy gave her a stern 'no'.

"Not even a little teddy bear?" Dawn moped.

Buffy frowned at the suggestion. "I don't think he'd like that sort of   
thing. Besides, they might let him out soon, if he's still healing   
pretty fast. And we have clothes for him, so we're not empty-handed."

Dawn let the subject die, and soon they were standing outside Spike's   
room. For some reason, Buffy wasn't opening the door. "C'mon, Buffy.   
It's not like he's going to open it himself."

"I--I know. I just want to...admire the nice wood-grain. Isn't it nice?"

Dawn rolled her eyes. "Sure, it's great. Let's move on," and she turned   
the handle on the door before her older sister could say another word.

Thanks to a southern exposure, the sun was streaming into the room,   
cheering the cold look of the room immensely. Spike was already awake   
and sitting up in bed, watching TV. He started as they came in, clearly   
not expecting to see visitors so soon. Or maybe at all.

"Hey, little bit," he said, trying on a tentative smile. "You came to   
see me?"

Dawn smiled back, with some amount of guilt. "Yeah, I had to come. To   
thank you, and everything...I mean, you saved my life yesterday. I   
wanted to stay but Buffy wouldn't let me, and I was so worried that you   
would die and then...I'd never get to tell you how sorry I am."

She looked down at her shoes, summoning up the courage, then looked him   
straight in the eye. "I treated you like garbage at the Magic Box,   
because everyone said you were just using me. But I know now that you   
weren't, and I just want to apologize for all of that."

He blinked. "Well, that's--uh, it's okay. No hard feelings. I'm just   
glad you're all right." He looked at her, suddenly uncertain. "You are,   
aren't you?"

"Oh, yeah! I'm fine. Hey, you know...that blue gown really brings out   
your eyes. Buffy, did you notice that?"

Buffy jumped, as if caught. "Huh? Oh, uh, no...I wasn't noticing that.   
Wasn't noticing anything, really."

Spike's attention focused on Buffy now, his expression having a hint of   
amusement and curiosity. "Penny for your thoughts, love?"

"Ah, I was...not really thinking of anything, really. We brought you   
clothes," Buffy held them out, proving the point.

Dawn added, "Yeah, she went and got them from your place, picked them   
out and everyth--ow!" She rubbed a sudden sore spot on her shoulder,   
where Buffy had slugged her. "What?"

"Sorry, thought it was a bug." That was Buffy's old code phrase for,   
'keep your mouth shut, stupid!'.

Sullenly, Dawn looked back to Spike, who still had his eyes on Buffy. In   
a flash of insight, Dawn understood what was going on; she'd seen it   
several times already in middle school. Buffy *liked* Spike--and she   
didn't want him to know it.

But Dawn wasn't stupid...she could tell Spike already knew. He was good   
at that sort of thing, figuring out what people were all about. Sensing   
an imminent moment at hand, she decided to make herself scarce.

"I gotta go...check out the gift shop and see if there's anything cute I   
can buy. I'll be back." And with that, she waved and skipped a hasty   
retreat out of the room.

  
****

  
"Well, that was a little...odd," Spike replied, watching her leave.   
Buffy shrugged, but inside she was panicking. That punch was for her to   
keep quiet, not leave!

"Yeah, but she was eyeing the shop as we came in," she covered. "So, how   
you do feel?"

He flicked off the TV. "Better. And you? The leg still bothering you?"

"A little. Just when I walk on it."

Spike moved over and patted the side of the bed, "Have a seat, then."

Buffy hesitated, then put the clothes on the tray table next to the bed   
and sat down, taking note of the warmth of his body beside hers. It   
was...nice. "Did the doctors tell you when you could be released?"

"Well, they're threatening to do tests on me, just to find out how I'm   
healing so quick, but they say I can leave as long as there's someone   
who'll watch over me and what all. I'll have to come back and have the   
stitches taken out, but they tell me it's like I've done a week's worth   
of healing already. Considering the paperwork grief I've given them,   
they won't be sad to see me leave."

"Paperwork grief?"

He smiled. "Oh, yeah--no identification, no medical history, no   
insurance. Nothing to prove I exist. I told 'em I lost all my papers in   
a mugging, then got tortured and then ended up in the hospital. I gave   
them my last name, just so they could write *something* down, at least."

Buffy cocked her head to the side, intensely curious. "And what *is*   
your last name?"

"Cotswold--not that it means much these days, with all the numbers and   
pieces of paper that you've got to have to prove who you are." His eyes   
took on a faraway look, then he exclaimed, "Ah, damn!"

"What?"

"I just realized...I'm gonna have to stop smoking, aren't I? Lung   
cancer, and all that?" He sighed bitterly. "And I just got a new pack of   
smokes, too."

"Any other regrets?" Buffy asked, meaning it to sound light-hearted, but   
failing miserably.

He gave her a heart-felt look. "If you mean do I miss being a   
vampire...no, I don't. I thought I would, but I can't say I don't like   
being alive, now that I'm here. And if it means that...that I can be a   
part of...things, then it was worth any price."

"You mean that?" Her tone was dead serious.

Spike replied in the same way. "Yeah, I do. I know you've still got hard   
feelings about the past--and you've got a right to be--but I want to   
leave those memories behind, buried and forgotten. And if you think it's   
possible, I'd like to have a second chance."

Buffy mulled this over, not sure whether he was talking about his   
feelings for her, or something more ambitious. Not knowing which one   
gave her the most trepidation, she then asked, "Do you feel the weight   
of the soul? You don't seem very...I don't know, upset?"

He swallowed, and looked down at the bedsheets. "I can feel it. The   
guilt and misery are...staggering. I don't think I could ever atone for   
what I've done. I feel like I could weep for ages," he took a deep,   
unsteady breath and continued, "but if I dwell on that all the time,   
I'll be a useless lump of self-loathing and despair. It wouldn't be   
fair, or right, knowing what a chance I've gotten."

Buffy was amazed, and a bit mollified at the same time. The man she was   
looking at--and he was a man, now, she reminded herself--wasn't the same   
person she'd once known. There were still the affectations of the old   
Spike, and she could see that inner darkness within him, just as she   
could sense her own, but there was a soul, now. He wasn't Spike anymore,   
not really.

It was a scary, exhilarating thought. Was he William, then? A hybrid of   
the two? Or a completely different person? A tiny part of her felt   
wistful over the 'death' of Spike, but her curiosity over this new turn   
of events won out in the end. Whoever he was now, she wanted to get to   
know him better...and that could happen only if she allowed it.

"You're right--you've been given a gift, a miracle," Buffy replied. "You   
can't waste it. Do you, um, know what you're doing to do, now? With this   
second chance?"

He looked at her thoughtfully. "Not sure, yet. I was trying to decide   
whether staying here is something I ought to do. Maybe I could help the   
gang out, with the slaying and everything. Do you think they'd like   
that?"

"I don't see why not. It would be very helpful. And I--uh, someone--  
could help you find a place to live, or work. We could all pitch in."

"A team effort?" He asked, a slight smile on his face. "Or would   
personal attention be involved?"

She was saved from the question by the door opening, letting in Willow   
and Tara. The two witches were almost as surprised to see her as Buffy   
was to see them, but Willow's smile only faltered a little. "Hey, how's   
the English patient?"

"Alive and mostly well," Buffy answered. "And you brought something!"   
she said, noticing a small and flat wrapped box in Tara's hands.

"Well, it's a kind of combination 'get well and body-warming' present,   
since Spike is now among the living, in more ways than one," Willow   
replied, while Tara handed him the present.

"I don't know what to say," Spike said, holding the gift as if might   
break.

"Open it," Willow urged, and he did so, tearing the paper off and   
lifting off the top of the box.

"It's a wallet," Spike said, confused. "Well, it's uh, very nice."

"See, now that you're human, you'll need one of these for holding money,   
credit cards, pictures, and so on. And it's made out of black leather,   
which Tara picked out."

Spike smiled at that, now heartily amused. "Very practical of you,   
Willow. Once I have something to put in it, it'll definitely...be put in   
there."

Willow beamed. "I knew you'd like it! And I see Buffy brought you   
clothes and shoes, so you're all set to leave. Not that you have to   
leave now, or anything," she corrected quickly.

"I know what you meant, Willow. But thanks for the clarification," he   
added dryly, then his face softened. "And thank you both for the gift.   
It wasn't necessary."

Willow glanced at Buffy uncertainly, not sure how to take the unusual   
politeness, then replied with firm reassurance, "You're welcome, Spike."

  
****

  
That he'd gotten a gift from Willow was surprising enough, since he   
hadn't expected her--or anyone, really--to show up. What the red-headed   
girl said next was as equally amazing. "I want to say that what you did   
yesterday took a lot of courage. You could've just walked away, but you   
didn't--you saved Dawn's life, and possibly the world, by doing   
something that meant almost certain death. I didn't think you were   
capable of doing something like that, but you did....So anyway, what I'm   
trying to say is, I'm sorry about jumping to conclusions and thinking   
the worst of you. And I hope that you can continue to help us out, even   
if you can't fight demons anymore."

Spike looked quickly to Buffy, who appeared to be caught flat-footed.   
Willow noticed the exchange and glanced at both of them hesitantly.   
"What? Did I say something wrong?"

"No, Willow," Buffy answered, "but we think that Spike might still be   
able to fight like before. He's healed incredibly fast, and he doesn't   
feel any weaker, but he's human and he has a soul."

"So, what does this mean?" Tara asked, holding her arms tightly around   
her.

"We don't know," Spike replied this time. "The best theory is that the   
demon is still inside of me, but controlled more or less by the soul. I   
still have some of the old abilities, but not all of them."

"Can you still change your face, a-and get all bumpy?" Willow piped up,   
a bit nervous. Spike's face fell--he hadn't thought to test that out.   
What did it mean, if he could still change? Buffy was watching him in   
concern, but it wasn't in fear of their safety.

He closed his eyes and concentrated, remembering the way and trying to   
make the transformation occur, but after several seconds he gave up.   
"Did--did anything happen?"

"Not a thing," Buffy replied, the relief in her voice evident. "And you   
tried? Really tried?"

"As bloody hard as I could, without popping a vessel."

The door opened again, and now Xander and Anya came in. Both were taken   
aback at the number of people in the room, but Anya was the first to   
speak, "Wow. Guess all of you came to apologize too, huh?"

"Anya, quiet, please," Xander pleaded, avoiding Spike's gaze. "Maybe we   
should visit later..."

"No, come in, sit a spell," Spike waved them in, partly enjoying the   
sight of Xander looking so horribly uncomfortable. Another part of him   
felt guilty for feeling that way. And yet another part said his prior   
teasing of Xander had been out of affection for the boy, but even with a   
soul, he wasn't about to go that far.

Anya walked over to his side, posture composed in a suitable humble   
manner, and said, "We're sorry you got hurt, and glad that you're better   
and that you have a soul now. So, this means staking you isn't an option   
anymore, right?" Spike nodded, her demeanor not offensive to him in the   
slightest--the change from demon to human was pretty disorienting. She   
smiled and nodded back, obviously pleased with herself.

"Good. Just wanted to get that straight." And she moved out of the way,   
so Xander--being pushed forward by Willow--could stand in her spot.

Neither Spike nor Xander were happy about it, and it showed. Spike   
remembered the gentility of his previous human years, though, and put it   
to use in a sincere admission. "Before you say whatever it is you wanted   
to say, let me tell you this. I'm sorry about how I treated you before.   
It wasn't right. I'm not going to excuse it, either, because I'm   
responsible for what I've done--I know that. And I know you can't   
forgive me for what I've done in the past. No one can. I'm not saying I   
deserve it, either. But what I hope we can do is set aside our   
differences and try to go from this point onward as people who don't   
entirely disdain the other's presence."

Xander, totally thrown for a loop, just stared at him for a few seconds,   
then cleared his voice and said, "And here I was, coming to apologize   
for acting like a jerk. Boy, you really know how to take the wind out of   
a person's sails, you know that?" he replied, but with a hint of   
respect. "Anyway, I'm cool with the lack of disdain. Maybe we could   
work up to mild indifference one day."

"Something to shoot for," Spike mused, wondering now if Giles was about   
to burst in and offer to take him in and train him as a Watcher. He   
shuddered at the thought, dreading the idea of wearing tweed.

Dawn came in, surprised and delighted to see the gang there. Willow and   
Tara stayed only a few minutes more, and they eventually drifted off,   
followed closely by Anya and Xander. A lull fell afterwards, and Dawn   
looked almost ready to bolt again, but she stayed when a doctor came in   
to check on Spike.

"Dr. Shafer, hi," Buffy greeted the tall doctor, who smiled when he   
recognized her. "Coming to see the miracle patient?"

"Well, it's more to check on him and see if he's ready to be released.   
William, do you have someone to take you home?"

"We're taking him with us," Buffy answered before he could say a word,   
and again he found himself watching her, not sure what--or who--he was   
seeing. A notion was dancing in his head, but he wouldn't voice it   
unless he had better proof.

"Good," the doctor responded. "Looks like everything's healing well. The   
main worry is keeping the sutures clean and changing the bandages often.   
I'm giving you a prescription for some painkillers, which you can have   
filled downstairs if you need them. If you notice an infection, don't   
hesitate to get it checked out so we can start you on a course of   
antibiotics. And make sure to rest--don't lift heavy objects and don't   
try to overextend yourself. Let others help you," he gave a pointed   
glance to Buffy, and she froze for a moment, then softened. Yes, this   
was definitely something.

Spike nodded and took the prescription, unable to decipher the scribbled   
note. He squinted at the small type along the bottom, and realized that   
he'd probably need to get another kind of prescription somewhere down   
the road--such was the curse of being far-sighted.

The doctor left to get the release forms ready down at the main desk,   
and Buffy quickly took the prescription from him and put it into her   
purse. When he gave her a questioning look, she threw one back that told   
him he ought to know better. Then he realized--of course. If he was in   
pain so badly that he'd need it, he wouldn't be able to get the   
prescription himself.

The nurse came in to disconnect the remaining machines and take out the   
IV drip in his arm. Buffy led Dawn out of the room while the nurse   
proceeded to check on his bandages, making sure everything was good   
before he left the hospital's care.

  
****

  
When the nurse left, Buffy peeked in and found Spike standing on the   
opposite side of the bed with his back to the door. The gown was   
replaced by the pants she'd brought, but he hadn't put the shirt on,   
yet.

As if sensing her presence, he turned and saw her. Caught in the act of   
spying, she tried to deflect her guilt. "Need some help?"

"Actually...yes," he said ruefully. "I thought it would be easy enough,   
but getting this shirt on involves muscles that aren't participating at   
the moment."

She closed the door behind her, and walked over to him, taking the grey   
shirt from his hand. "Put your arms out", she commanded. He did so, and   
she took each hand and carefully pulled the sleeves on, making sure not   
to snag on one of the bandages on either arm. With a little more of a   
firm touch and some maneuvering, they managed to get it over his head   
without too much pain. She gently pulled the close-fitting shirt the   
rest of the way down, again wary of snagging one of the many bandages on   
his chest and back.

The effort put her within the circle of his arms, and her face burned in   
embarrassment as she realized the position they were in, the closest   
they'd ever been physically, without fighting. She hastily finished the   
job, more aware of his nearness than she ought to be. He gazed down at   
her with a mixture of longing and gratitude, and his mouth opened as if   
to say something, but then it closed, silent. After a moment, he finally   
said, "Thank you".

It was simply said, but the raw tone to his voice caused a small shudder   
down her spine. She tried to look away, but his gaze pinned her there,   
unable to move away. "You're welcome," she responded at last, her voice   
sounding weak in her ears.

His countenance changed, the uncertainty shifting into a self-confidence   
that was an echo of his former self. It had been one of his more   
attractive traits, when it hadn't denigraded into smugness, but there   
wasn't a trace of anything unbecoming in him now. She felt his hand on   
her cheek, the same as the day before, but she didn't have a second to   
copy her own response--his eyes dropped down to her mouth, a split   
second warning before she felt his lips on hers, possessive yet gentle,   
familiar but unknown.

Her body reacted before her mind did, kissing him back while her hands   
went around his waist, careful not to brush against any of his still-  
healing cuts. After a few seconds of rising passion, her mind kicked in   
and starting to throw cold water on the fire. What are you doing? Have   
you gone nuts? That's *Spike*, for crying out loud!

Spike must have sensed the change, because he pulled back, watching her   
for some sign of what had happened. She looked in his eyes, expecting   
the desire she found there, but not the love and adoration in his gaze.

"You--you really love me, don't you?" Buffy asked breathlessly, afraid   
to hear it and yet hoping, somewhere down deep, that it hadn't been all   
an obsession.

"Yes," he managed to reply, his voice not much better off than hers. "I   
love you, Buffy. And you can't deny that you feel something for me--not   
now."

She closed her eyes, emotions assailing her and each demanding her full   
attention. She tried to focus, tried to find out what she was feeling,   
then she heard him say softly, "I didn't want to press my luck again,   
but when I saw how you looked at me, and how you acted around me...well,   
I'm not blind, pet. Am I wrong?"

He knew he wasn't, but she wouldn't be so easily exposed. "Well, what if   
you were? What if I don't feel the same way? I mean, you're still   
potentially dangerous, you're...formerly evil, and you--" she paused as   
he watched her in growing amusement, trying to form some sort of   
defense, "--are driving me crazy!"

"Is that all? A pretty short list, love."

"It's more than that. This is so sudden, which I know is a cliche, but   
in this case you can say it's justified," Buffy said wryly, then added,   
"I wanted to take some time away from being involved and just be myself,   
but then this happens...and now I'm back in the land of the romantically   
attached."

"So, what you're saying is, you want to find the real you," Spike   
replied, "and that doesn't involve me, or anyone else."

"No, it's just--I'm not saying this right. I wanted to take some time   
before finding the next guy, the one that would be right for me, not   
just because I was desperate to have someone around. Ideally, we would   
figure this out in a month or so--I'd be doing something terribly   
mundane, and you would be nagging me about not doing something right,   
and then we'd get into a big fight that ends with you kissing me, and me   
kissing back, and then...uh, more things happen," she covered quickly,   
not quite willing to let him know where her thoughts had gone.

"Right," he looked at her, a bit confused. "You want to continue this   
about a month from now?"

She nodded, already forming a plan. "Friendly interaction, but with some   
underlying sexual tension, so it isn't completely unexpected."

He smiled now, seeing her point. "Which the rest of the gang will see   
and believe. Very devious, Summers...I like it."

"I knew you would. Gives us time to heal, inside and out, and it allows   
them time to accept the idea of us, y'know, being like this."

He traced along the edge of her jaw with his fingers, "It's gonna be   
hard, not being able to kiss you for a month...but if it means having   
you in the end, I'd wait for as long as necessary."

"Well, here's a parting gift," she kissed him lightly, which turned into   
something very nice, and was moving into seriously dangerous territory   
when they both heard the sound of the doorknob turning. They jumped as   
far away from each other as they could, but it was only the nurse coming   
back, to let them know that everything was ready, and that he could   
leave at any time.

Buffy smiled her thanks, and watched as Spike drifted over to the   
window, willing himself to enter into the sunlight. He couldn't help   
flinching as soon as the rays from the sun hit him, but when nothing   
happened, he visibly relaxed. She came over to his side and took in the   
view from the window, watching the world go by. When he spoke, it cut   
through the silence like a knife through water.

"This is a great feeling, the warmth of sunshine on your skin--I forgot   
how much I missed it." He sighed, looked at her affectionately, then   
turned back to the window. "I can't wait to watch the sunrise tomorrow."

"The sunsets are even better, especially at the beach. I'll take you   
there someday soon."

"Before the month passes?"

"Sure. No reason I can't...it's a friendly thing to do." How friendly it   
might get, she was willing to lend to fate.

He nodded thoughtfully. "It is at that. Let's go...Dawn's probably bored   
to tears from waiting."

Buffy agreed, and after gathering all their belongings, they left the   
hospital room behind, both of them feeling one chapter of their lives   
was closing, while another was just beginning.

  
End.


End file.
